The Right Direction, Part 1
by JordanMcGee
Summary: "Every time I think maybe I'm headin' in the right direction, I end up in a place I never knew could feel this bad." Reeling from his wife's death, Jax is plunged into a catatonic state where he's bombarded with beautiful and painful memories of his life with Tara. When he recovers, which direction will he take?
1. Prologue

**The Right Direction: Part 1**

**_"Every time I think maybe I'm headin' in the right direction, I end up in a place I never knew could feel this bad."_**

**Reeling from his wife's death, Jax is plunged into a catatonic state where he's bombarded with beautiful and painful memories of his life with Tara. When he recovers, which direction will he take? Will he be the crazed monster intent on violently avenging his wife's brutal murder? Or will he finally keep his promise - honor what Tara died trying to do - and save their boys from the violent MC life that could be their fate. Or both…**

**Sons of Anarchy belongs to Kurt Sutter. I own nothing (except an OC that will be introduced later).**

_AN:_

_I still have a ton of anger over Season 6. Yes, because Tara died; she was my favorite SOA character by FAR. But also because of the ridiculous OOC storyline that Sutter gave her. Yes, I would think that getting the boys out of Charming, away from Gemma and the MC life would be her first priority in the face of a lengthy prison term. But a fake miscarriage plot is right out of bad 1970's soap operas. Was Sutter's writing team watching 40-year-old re-runs of "General Hospital" or "As the World Turns" when they came up with that ridiculous story arc? It was stupid and lazy and generated all sorts of ridiculous Tara-hate. All we needed was an evil twin and a bout of amnesia to make the freak season complete. So I'm writing this so I can honor my all-time favorite TV character (next to Jack Bauer) and make sure Jax remembers how good he had it with her._

_Acknowledgements: I love some of the fanfiction I've read here. Particularly "Final Embrace" by VD Star, "Shut Down the City Lights" by Monroeslittle and "There's Us" by Xiomy318 (please finish!). I totally agree with some of the details and plot points in those stories (e.g., Jax's wish to have his ashes mingled with Tara's and buried together from "Final Embrace" was beautiful) so I've alluded to some of those in this story._

_I titled this Part 1 because it's mainly flashbacks. Since I will not watch Season 7, Part 2 will be how I would like to envision the end unfolding. But I still have a ways to go in plot construction before it's ready._

* * *

><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

There's so much blood; the cloying, coppery odor so overwhelming that the sheriff's deputy finds it hard to breathe. He's no rookie; he's worked bloody crime scenes before. But this… this is horror beyond anything he's ever seen.

They had found his boss, Sheriff Eli Roosevelt, dead and sprawled across the kitchen floor – a gaping bullet hole ripped into his back. The deputy closes his eyes in regret; Eli was a good man, a good cop. He certainly didn't deserve this. Hell the Roosevelt family didn't deserve this; another tragedy so soon after Rita had been so cruelly taken from them. The coroner takes his body away first, leaving a dark pool of coagulated blood smeared on the white tile.

The body of the other victim, Dr. Tara Knowles, is still in the room. After loading Roosevelt's body into the first van, the coroner returns and indicates that he's ready to take her away, too. But her husband – who had been there when they found the bodies – is still cradling her body, clasping her to him, refusing to let go. His head is bent, pressed against her neck, while he sobs uncontrollably. It's a jarring sight for the deputy who only knows Jackson Teller to be as cold and hard as the reaper gracing the back of his leather cut.

Patterson, the DA, sees the deputies and the coroner moving in, ready to seize the body – by force if necessary - from the distraught husband and signals for them to stand down. Teller is a violent and dangerous man, but none of them have ever seen the steely-eyed biker king like this before – crying, wailing, completely destroyed. There's just no telling what he might do if confronted now.

"Jackson," Patterson is standing above Teller, she speaks softly "The coroner is here. You need to let him take her now."

The deputy puts his hand on his gun; he's seen the fallout of Teller's violent behavior before. He knows it would not be beyond the SAMCRO President to pull out a gun and start shooting in order to keep what he believes belongs to him. And without a doubt, Tara Knowles has always belonged to him.

Teller clutches his wife's body even tighter, "Get out" he snarls, not even looking up – his red, wet face buried against his wife's cheek.

"I'm sorry, Jax" Patterson tries to reason with him, "but we need to take her, or we'll never know what happened to her, never be able to catch the person who did this to her."

This seems to get Teller's attention; he finally raises his head. In an instant his expression transforms from soul crushing grief to murderous rage. The deputy pulls out his gun as Patterson steps back. The monster has returned.

"You want to know what happened?" Teller screams at them, his eyes wild with fury and grief, "Someone fucking murdered my wife on your watch! She was supposed to be safe, and you and your goddamn sheriff let her get murdered in our home! You think I want you fucking people anywhere near her again? Get out! GET OUT!"

Roosevelt was murdered, too, the deputy silently defends his late boss. Eli most likely died trying to protect Dr. Knowles. But there's no reasoning with Teller in his current state. They're going to have to take her by force.

Sighing with regret, Patterson signals the deputies to advance. It takes all three of them to pry Teller's tight grip from his wife's body and wrestle him away so the coroner can lift her body on to the stretcher and wheel her outside to the waiting van. Teller lets out a blood-curling roar when they finally separate him from Tara's body and begins fighting the deputies holding him down. He screams her name again and again as he scrambles to break the deputies' hold. Jackson Teller is a strong man – even more so in his crazed anguish. He manages to escape the hold by breaking one deputy's nose with a vicious punch and disabling another with forceful kicks to the shins and groin. He races outside, still screaming her name, desperate to stay with her – as if staying with her body would somehow bring her back to life, back to him.

As the coroner is loading Tara's body into the van, Teller lunges, intent on stopping the man from taking Tara away from him. But a blinding pain forces him to his knees. "Tara!" he screams as he watches the coroner's van drive off with his love, his beautiful girl. "Tara!" He stumbles forward, trying to give chase when the pain hits him again and again until he sinks into oblivion.

Patterson stares at the deputy holding the Taser and then down at the unconscious, prone body of Jackson Teller.  
>"Take him in," she orders, "book him for assault of a law enforcement officer for now. We'll know soon enough if we need to upgrade that to double homicide."<p>

* * *

><p><em>He wakes slowly. His eyes feel heavy, swollen shut. His body aches like he's been beaten – every muscle, every nerve screaming from even the smallest of movements. He listens for noises, any familiar sounds that can provide a clue to where he is. But it's too quiet, and that scares him. He wants to hear Tara's even breathing as she sleeps nestled against him and the night-time gurgling noises from the baby monitors perched on the night stand.<em>

_It's a near herculean effort, but he's finally able to pry his eyes open. Peering under swollen lids, he can see a dim light. With even more effort, he turns his head and the irons bars gradually come into focus. He realizes that he's in county jail. He's spent enough time in these cells to know the distinct smell; knows how cold and dark it can be for those forced to stay as overnight guests. But the smell of blood – one he knows all too well – is there, too. He smells it on his hands, on his arms, in his hair. And then the memory hits him with force of the heaviest and cruelest of hammers. It's Tara's blood. The kitchen had been drenched with it; he had felt it matted in her hair, felt it seep through his clothes when he held her. And he remembers that his beautiful wife is gone forever. Hot tears sting and run down his face before he can slam his eyes shut. But he can't stem the flow any more than he can stop the sharp, crushing pain from ravaging through him, forcing more sobs to wrack his body. And then worse than the tears, worse than the physical pain comes an assault of memories of his life with Tara. _

_Memories from childhood when she was a smart, smart-ass little girl next door; never hesitating to tell him and Opie that their pranks were stupid, laughing in their faces when those pranks backfired – but always, always standing by them, defending them and denying accusations from parents, teachers and any other authority figures seeking to mete out punishment. _

_Memories of high school when he realized that his childhood friend had transformed into the most beautiful girl in the world. He had fallen so hard for her, and she with him that they couldn't bear to be apart, couldn't fathom life without the other. His world had revolved around the moments he could be with her, and when he wasn't with her, she consumed his thoughts. She had owned him so completely that during their 11-year separation, he had lived in limbo; fucking nameless, faceless women who were just surrogates for the only girl he would ever love. His short and regrettable marriage had done nothing more than underscore the sad fact he would always be emotionally unavailable to any woman but Tara._

_Memories of her return to Charming as a gifted surgeon; still so smart and so incredibly beautiful, but with a new and irresistible layer of maturity and self-possession. He hadn't thought it possible, but his consuming love and need for her increased ten-fold in the years that she re-entered his life, became the mother of his children and his wife._

_Ever since he was a sixteen-year-old kid, all he ever wanted was to take his father's place as head of the MC and have Tara by his side forever. And for a short, brutally short, time his dream had been reality. But now it's gone; Tara is gone and there would be no more dreams for his future. He closes his eyes and allows sleep take him. No more future, just the past…_


	2. Strength Comes from the Good Things

**Chapter 1: STRENGTH COMES FROM THE GOOD THINGS**

It's not common knowledge, but Jax wasn't the first Teller man to fall in love with Tara Knowles.  
>No, that distinction belonged to his kid brother, Tommy.<p>

Jax doesn't remember when Tommy first starts ditching him to run off to be with Tara. Usually Tommy is his shadow, following him everywhere. But at some point, out of the blue, Tommy decided that Opie's quiet, dark-haired next door neighbor was better company than anyone, even his older brother. Jax thinks it's funny that his four-year-old brother seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to locating Tara. It's like Tommy's a tiny compass and she's North. Anytime Tara is nearby – whether they're at Opie's house, in a store or at the park, Tommy would find her and everyone, including Jax, would be forgotten.

Since Opie is Jax's best friend, he and Tommy see her a lot because Jax tries to spend as much time as he can at the Winston's place. And Tommy always insists on trailing his older brother. Jax tells his mom and dad that Opie needs their company because he's an only child and lonely. Which is true. But it's also true that more fun can be had under Mary or Piney Winston's lax supervision versus Gemma Teller's eagle eyes.

Sometimes Tara comes over to Opie's house to hang out with them; Tommy would claim his place on her lap or hold her hand or both. When she doesn't, Tommy would ditch them to run next door to her house and bang on the door until she lets him in to spend long afternoons drawing and coloring pictures, baking cookies or whatever girly stuff Tara wants to do while her parents are at work. Jax and Opie often tease Tara about her possessive boyfriend, but she just looks down her nose at them and huffs that they're just jealous because neither of them are nearly as cute or as fun as Tommy.

Jax thinks it's great that Tommy is so magnetized to Tara because it gives him and Opie the freedom to pull pranks, spout newly-learned profanity and wax on about their SAMCRO dreams without having a little kid under-foot. He loves his little brother, but sometimes men need time to be men, even at age ten. Besides he's known Tara since pre-school. She's always been the coolest girl he knows and seems to love spending time with his brother. But to be safe (as his parents would kill him if anything happened to Tommy), he keeps an eye on the pair in case Tommy gets tired (which happens a lot with his weak heart) or if Tara gets tired of the often involuntary (and always free) baby-sitting duties.

But whenever he's with Tara, Tommy is always laughing with her, singing with her or gazing adoringly at her as she reads him story after story. And whenever she's with Tommy, Tara is always smiling. Which Jax and Opie agree is a good thing. Tara's home life has never been a happy one so she hasn't had much to smile about, especially since her mom died last year. But it doesn't take long for Jax to secretly wish that she would smile like that at him.

* * *

><p>One Saturday the Tellers and other SAMCRO members attend a funeral for Otto's old man. After the service, Jax's parents remain to pay respects to Otto and Luanne and mingle with the members of other charters who made the trip to Charming. He and Opie are admiring all the different Harley's when he notices that Tommy is nowhere to be seen. Jax knows there will be hell to pay if JT and Gemma find out that he's lost Tommy. He and Opie split up the search; Jax combs the rest of the cemetery while Opie checks out the street in case Tommy was drawn to the sight of all the bikes.<p>

The worried pounding in his chest almost causes him miss the sound. Someone is crying. He runs towards the muffled sobs and almost, almost misses the two small figures obscured by the larger headstones. In front of a small grave marker, sits a young girl, her head bent as she sobs into her hands. Beside her, Tommy is on his knees, his chubby hand stroking her dark brown hair. Jax doesn't need to see her face to know it's Tara. Somehow Tommy knew she was here and the four-and-a-half-year-old slipped past his parents, his brother and dozens of SAMCRO members to go comfort her.

Jax steps closer; feeling slightly uncomfortable around the crying girl, mumbling "Hey" is all he could muster.  
>Apparently it's all he needs to say, as both Tommy and Tara whirl around to face him.<p>

Tommy babbles something but Jax doesn't hear him. Tara is staring at him with those mossy green, tear-filled eyes and there's a jolt in his stomach and roaring in his head. He opens his mouth to say something else and then closes it as somehow he's forgotten how to speak.

She stands up and wipes her tears with the backs of her hands. He wishes he has a pack of tissues to give her. He glances at the grave marker and sees the name, Grace Knowles. And then he remembers that Tara's mother died exactly a year ago. His family had gone to the funeral, and he remembers feeling so sorry for her that day. She looked so sad.

"I'm sorry," she says, helping Tommy to his feet and guiding him to Jax.

"For what?" Jax replies absently as he continues to stare into her eyes. How has he not noticed how pretty they were? And then he hears Gemma in the distance calling Tommy's name, then his name. It shakes him out of his strange trance.

"Not your fault," he assures her, "Mom's looking for us. Tommy & I gotta go."

Now that he's not fixated on her eyes, he sees there's a dark bruise on her cheek and slight swelling to her lip. Was she crying because that hurt? It sure looked painful. "You okay?" Jax knows it's a stupid question, obviously she's not okay, but somehow his brain and his mouth have forgotten how to function together.

She looks down so her long brown hair obscures her face, "I'm fine," she says so softly that he almost doesn't hear it. She leans down to hug Tommy. "Thanks, Toms." She gives his brother a watery smile before kissing him on the forehead. And for the first time in his whole life, Jax envies his little brother.

* * *

><p>One rainy Sunday afternoon at Opie's house, Tara suggests that they play a game of Time Machine. Jax thinks it's a stupid game, but he had told Opie that they need to cheer her up after the incident at the cemetery. She teaches them how to play – "It's very simple," she informs them, "If you had a time machine – where would you go, and what would you do?" Opie goes first – he wants to be sixteen with his own Harley and ride to the beach in Santa Cruz. Jax goes further into the future where he would be President of SAMCRO and lead all of the charters. Tommy wants to go back in time to see the dinosaurs (he and Tara had been coloring pictures of dinosaurs that morning). "What about you, Knowles?" Jax teases, "go back in time to make sure dodge ball doesn't get invented?" alluding to Tara's loathing of the game they had to play during gym class when rain forced the class inside. She's usually a pretty good athlete but really, really sucks at that game. He and Opie crack up, remembering her last pathetic attempt to play. Tara distracts Tommy into looking at something out the window and then flips his older brother the bird.<p>

* * *

><p>It's the worst day of Jax's 12-year-old life. The Tellers are at St. Thomas Hospital where Tommy is hooked up to an endless number of tubes. They were at home when Tommy suddenly collapsed, unable to breathe. Both he and Jax have bad hearts, a defect inherited from their mother. But while Jax and his mom have enjoyed robust health, Tommy has always been fragile. Jax sits quietly, miserably in the chair holding Tommy's hand while his little brother drifts in and out of consciousness. Gemma and JT are outside somewhere, having been led away by the doctor to talk about Tommy's prognosis.<p>

He senses someone come into the room and is surprised to see Tara. She's alone and walks up to stand next to Tommy's bed. Her normally pale complexion is pink from exertion and her eyes are red-rimmed from crying.

"Opie told me," she places a hand on his arm, "I'm so sorry, Jax."

He feels warmth spreading from where her hand rests on his upper arm up to his shoulder and down into his fingers. He doesn't realize how icy cold he had been, "Thanks," he stares at her for a heartbeat and then looks back to Tommy. "Tommy will be glad you're here. Did your dad drive you here?" Another stupid question (he seems to be a never-ending font of them around her); St. Thomas is miles away from the Knowles residence.

"No," she shakes her head sadly, a single tear falls down her cheek as she takes in all the tubes keeping his brother alive, "I ran."

Then as if he knew his girl had arrived, Tommy opens his eyes. "Tara?" he whispers, "you're here."

Jax watches Tara flash a brilliant smile at Tommy, "Hey Toms," she brushes a blond lock from his eyes, "I brought you a get well present." She reaches into the front pocket of her hoodie and hands him a bright red toy car. Jax tries not to choke up as his brother smiles for the first time – unlike the other Teller men, Tommy prefers classic cars to motorcycles.

"Wow, the Thunderbird," he whispers reverently, gazing lovingly at the car and then back up at Tara. During their exchange, Jax should have felt invisible except Tara moves her hand from his arm to squeeze his hand. And the heat that had radiated through his arm now spreads through his whole body and despite the misery of the room, he feels just a tiny bit happy.

"Love you, Tara," he hears his brother whisper. It's surprising because Tommy had only ever said that to their parents and to Jax. But then again, not surprising, Tara Knowles is no ordinary girl.

"I love you, too, Toms," she smiles again and kisses him on the forehead.

When Tommy died hours later, he was clutching the red car. He was still clutching it days later when they closed the casket and lowered Jax's baby brother into the ground.

Jax would later learn from Opie that Tara stole the red Thunderbird from her father's model car collection because Tommy had loved it. Opie would also tell him that Frank Knowles beat the shit out of Tara for taking the car and refusing to tell him what she did with it or how to get it back. His drunken rage and the force of the beating was so loud that Opie and Piney heard it at the Winston residence and came running over. Piney had to knock Tara's dad unconscious to prevent him from beating his daughter to death over a toy car. Jax decides he wants to knock Tara's dad unconscious, too.

She's covered with bruises and her fractured arm is in a sling, but she puts on a hoodie to cover her face and walks to the cemetery for Tommy's funeral. She stands in the back so no one can see her. After the service when most people have walked away, she stands next to Jax looking over Tommy's grave.

"If I had a time machine, I would go into the future and become a doctor," she whispers, reaching out with her good arm to squeeze his hand, "then I would come back and save him."

* * *

><p>The summer before they start high school is brutally hot. Jax and Opie go to the lake every day to swim in the cold water and then flirt with the girls in bikinis. And most times, they do more than flirt. Jax loves being around pretty girls, and they love him back. His golden good looks ensures that he could have any girl he wants, and he wants many. Opie gets his share of girls, too. But unlike Jax, Opie is a serial monogamist (a term they learned when Tara made them watch some idiot chick movie); Opie would have a girlfriend he would date steadily for a few weeks or a few months and then break up with her to start another cycle with another girl.<p>

On the last day of summer vacation, Tara goes with them to the lake. She had avoided going all summer because the sun is hell on her pale skin. But the record heat combined with a broken air conditioner had her tailing along with Jax and Opie. They find a large patch of grass under a tree to put down their towels and beer cooler. Jax and Opie are ready to jump into the water immediately but Tara says she needs more sunscreen. She shoos them off, saying that the ladies are waiting for them.

Jax smiles as he dives into the water. Tara is definitely not like any other girl he knows. Any of those girls would demand that he stay with her and sure as hell wouldn't encourage him to flirt with other girls. They've grown to be closer friends since Tommy's death, as if being together was a way to keep Tommy alive somehow. Jax sometimes found himself going over to her house when he knew Opie wasn't home. Just to hang out, watch movies or read one of the millions of books she seemed to have. Her old man was never home so Tara was alone all the time. But even being friends with her is different than being friends with anyone else. Tara has always been somewhat of a loner, ever since they were little kids. Yeah, she'll hang out with him and Opie now and then, and random people here and there. But more often than not, she did her own thing.

An half hour later, he's making out with a hot blonde from Lodi, thinking maybe he could take her to the secluded area he had found earlier in the summer and claim what she was offering him. He had lost his virginity a few months ago to an 18-year-old croweater and quickly decided that sex was the greatest and would never turn down a chance for more.

He breaks the kiss and starts to suggest moving to his secluded spot when he sees past the blonde to a vision of long, long legs and the most gorgeous ass he's ever seen, molded to a pair of bikini bottoms. She has her back to him so all he can see of the rest of her is dark hair pulled into a bun, smooth shoulders and long and graceful spine. As if she can hear his silent request to turn around so he can see the rest of her, she pivots so he can see her profile. He nearly groans as he sees that her breasts are as world class as her long legs and perfect ass. High and firm, but also lush and full. The bikini top she wears only accentuates the delicious shape. His half-mast erection from anticipated sex with the blonde surges to a pulsing hard-on, as blood rushes downward from his head to his groin.

Then two things happen that send him reeling in disbelief. He's still admiring her breasts when she tilts her head backs and laughs. Jax freezes; he knows that musical, half-giggle as he's heard it hundreds of times since childhood. He tears his gaze from those perfect breasts to stare hard at the profile of her face. Holy mother of fuck, he had been lustfully ogling Tara. He had a hard-on that could hammer nails because of Tara. And to add to his mindfuck, he felt himself getting absolutely pissed that she wasn't alone. Standing next to her, getting the up-close view of her perfect body, making her laugh is some smarmy asshole that Jax has never seen before. The smarmy asshole is holding up a bottle of sunscreen, and Jax just fucking knows that this douchebag is offering to rub it on her. Over his dead body. He starts to move towards the couple with the intent of pounding the douchebag into a bloody mess.

"JAX!" someone is yelling his name, pulling him back. The blonde is gone, and Opie is staring at him in confusion, as if he's sprouted two heads or something. Jax takes a deep breath. Fuck, maybe he has – something in the universe has gone haywire if he's now lusting over a girl that he's been friends with since they were toddlers.

"What the fuck, dude. Did you go into some kind of trance?" Opie grins and plants his big meaty paw across Jax's forehead like a nurse checking for fever, "that chick was screaming your name and you're staring into space like some dopey fuck. It's like you forgot she was there."

He hadn't been staring into space; he had been spellbound by the most fuckable body he'd ever seen in the form of 14-year-old Tara Knowles. They're the same age, but he feels like a perv. And even though Opie is his best friend, there's no way in hell that Jax is going to tell him any of this, "Got distracted," he says simply, "guess I lost interest." It's not exactly a lie; the minute he saw Tara, the other girl ceased to exist, "Shit, I need a beer." Opie looks at him strangely but says nothing.

They start to walk towards to the area where they had laid their towels and beer cooler, and he feels his temper starting to spike to nuclear levels. A few feet away, he can see Tara lying face down on her towel while the smarmy asshole is spreading sunscreen over her flawless skin.

"Looks like Tara is finally getting some action," Opie chuckles. Jax doesn't appreciate the humor and scowls. But before he can open his mouth and say something incredibly stupid and expose his mind-boggling jealousy, Opie saves him from that particular disgrace. "Wait, that's Keith Brady," there's a wealth of disgust in Opie's voice as he recognizes the smarmy asshole, "Ugh, that dude's 19. Tara's total jailbait for that guy."

"Let's beat the shit out of him," Jax can't keep the savagery out of his voice as he watches the soon-to-be-dead man massage Tara's shoulders. He's ready to cut the asshole's balls off.

Mistaking Jax's anger for his own brotherly concern, Opie shakes his head, "Not yet and not here, Tara will kill us. But we can send a message. If he still doesn't get it, then you can hold him down while I tap dance on his nuts."

The ominous wrath on their faces must have been evident as they approach the couple; the smarmy asshole looks at both of them and jerks his hands from Tara's skin as if he'd been burned. Jax and Opie may be five years younger, but everyone knows that they are SAMCRO legacy and can mete out violence, even at a young age. He leaps up, mutters something to her about forgetting the time and needing to go and then scurries away without looking back. "Keep going douchebag," Jax mutters under his breath.

Tara is initially disoriented by her new friend's abrupt departure. She sits up and narrows her eyes at Opie and Jax, who are looking at her accusingly - like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't be doing. "What did you guys do to make him leave like that?"

"Didn't do anything," Jax shrugs and opens the beer cooler and tosses cold cans to both of them before popping open one for himself, "maybe he thought about the ass-fucking that he'd get in jail for getting a boner over a chick not even in high school."

Jumping to her feet, Tara marches to him and pokes him in the chest with her finger – hard enough to push him back, "You have got to be kidding me," she pokes him again, green eyes glittering over his hypocrisy, "you fuck everything in sight, and then you have the balls to threaten a guy who just helped me put on sunscreen."

Opie tries to ride to Jax's rescue, "Tara, you know he wasn't going to stop at sunscreen. No dude offers to put that crap on a girl unless he wants to, uh, well, you know, block the sun – uh, missionary style," he wags his eyebrows to try and diffuse her temper.

For his troubles, she nails him with that green glare, "That has got to be the most asinine thing you have ever said to me, Harry Winston. Just because the two of you are horny idiots, doesn't mean that you can paint everyone with the same stupid brush."

Oh she is pissed; Jax knows that when she's annoyed with the two of them, they are Jackson Teller and Harry Winston. But Jax doesn't care because those lush breasts are heaving in agitation and he's got the perfect view. While she vents her wrath at Opie, Jax takes full advantage to admire the plump white mounds. He wonders what color her nipples are; with her pale complexion, he's thinking pink - a rosy, suckable pink. Shit, he can feel himself getting hard again. She flips her attention back to him, ready to unload more temper, but stops when she sees where his gaze is focused.

"Good God, Jackson, they're just breasts," she snaps at him, "Nothing you haven't seen before on a dozen other girls," she whips her t-shirt on over her bathing suit, throws her towel and book in a bag and mutters something about getting a ride back from someone else. Oh and they can both go fuck themselves.

Jax watches her storm off, torn between staring at that perfect ass and running after her to apologize and convince her to stay with them. Behind him Opie starts to laugh, "And here I thought we were saving her from that pervert," he guffaws, "didn't realize that the real perv is you."

"Shut the fuck up, Ope," Jax growls.

Opie laughs even harder.

* * *

><p>Jax is fifteen when his dad dies tragically in a motorcycle accident. It's a devastating blow for a family still reeling from Tommy's death just three years before. Jax had loved his old man more than anything so he goes through the days in a pain filled fog not even his mom or Opie can penetrate.<p>

Life at home is suffocating. His mom is smothering him with too much attention (which actually started when Tommy died) and disgusting him with her not-so-subtle relationship with Clay, who was supposedly his old man's friend. Sometimes he hates them both.

He finds that he can sometimes finds a little peace sitting by his dad's grave stone. It's probably morbid, but it's the closest he can get to his dad now, so he doesn't care. A week after his dad's funeral, he runs off after an explosive fight with his mom and heads to the cemetery. His head is spinning and he wants to cry. Shit, he had just caught his mom having sex with Clay – just seven days after his dad was put in the ground. How the hell was he supposed to deal with that?

He's surprised to arrive at his father's grave stone to see Tara putting fresh flowers down next to the marker. She attended the funeral but he hadn't been able to spend any time with her given all the demands for his attention from his mother, his Uncle Jury and dozens of SAMCRO riders who had come to pay their respects. Standing next to Opie and Piney, she had walked up to him and his mom to offer her condolences. But before she walked away, she had grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. And like the terrible day of Tommy's death, he drew comfort from the heat that spread across his body that caused his skin to tingle and remind him that he was very much alive.

"Tara," he says name softly. She stands up and turns to face him. She smiles sadly and wraps him in a tight hug. Jax pulls his hands out of his pockets and hugs her back, squeezing hard. He loves the comforting warmth of her, even though it causes him to release the hot torrent of tears that he'd been keeping at bay. He buries his wet face in her neck, savoring the clean floral scent of her hair.

"I was here for my Mom," she tells him, her voice slightly muffled by his chest, "today would have been her birthday. But then I thought about Tommy and your Dad and how they had their lives just _taken_ from them so soon. They didn't have a choice. It's just so unfair." So she had given his father and brother the flowers she had brought for her mom. Jax clutches her even tighter.

Tara never talks about her mom, but he knows the story. He had overheard Gemma talking to Luanne after Grace Knowles' funeral. They had gone to high school with Grace - a smart, ambitious girl who had wanted nothing more than to move away from Charming, go to college and then travel the world. Instead she had gotten pregnant with Tara and married the baby's father, Frank Knowles, her high school sweetheart who didn't share her dreams of leaving Charming. He was happy with his job at the local power plant and even happier hanging out with his drinking buddies. Grace sank into depression and buried herself in her travel books and prescription pills. Jax has vague memories of Tara's mom. He had thought she was pretty – she looked just like Tara - but always so sad. And it had made him sad to see Tara work so hard to make her mother happy whether it was through perfect grades or the painstakingly drawn and colored pictures of their family or cooking the family meals every night – it was endless. Tara didn't go to classmate's parties because she felt she needed to keep her mother company when her dad would go out drinking with his friends. It was as if she knew what would happen if her mother was left alone to dwell on the bitter disappointment that her life had become.

Not long after Tara's ninth birthday, Grace Knowles' body was pulled out of the San Joaquin River. She had left a note for Frank and Tara, and then drove her car through the wooden fence and down the embankment to sink into the river. Frank Knowles went on a downward spiral afterwards, transforming from a dashing Irish charmer into a violent, abusive drunk. And his young daughter, a small replica of her mother, became the frequent target for his rages. After the beat-down that Piney gave him after Tommy's funeral, Knowles promised he wouldn't touch Tara again. But Jax knows that her home life is still hell; she may be safe from her dad's fists, but not from the hateful sting of his insults that he shouts for the whole town to hear or the loneliness from his neglect.

And just like that, Jax has a moment of clarity. It hurts like hell that his old man is gone, but at least he got to spend fifteen years with the best dad to walk the earth. And though Gemma may be smothering him and making him crazy by slutting around with Clay, at least he knows that she's there for him and lovingly patient with him despite all the awful shit he's said to her face since JT died. Definitely beats parents that forget that you exist and then batter you when they remember. Jax still feels like shit, but the lead weight that had been crushing his chest since his dad's accident eases just a little.

Tara pulls away to peer up into his face; a tentative smile teasing her pink mouth, "I got my allowance today," she tells him (although he knows that her "allowance" is cash she steals from her dad's wallet to buy groceries before he can blow it all at the bars). "Ice cream's on me, Teller." He thinks about refusing, wanting to be alone with his misery and thoughts about his old man. But she looks so hopeful, so intent on helping him forget his loss – even for just a little while. He manages a slight smile, a slight nod and lets her lead him away.


	3. I've Loved You Since I Was Sixteen

**Chapter 2: I'VE LOVED YOU SINCE I WAS SIXTEEN**

_"Something's wrong with Teller," Cane tells Patterson as he leads her to the holding cell where they've been keeping the biker king, "He's been like this since we brought him in last night. Hasn't moved or said a word. Hasn't touched any food or water either. I don't think he's in any kind of shape for questioning."_

_ Patterson enters the cell and immediately agrees that something is definitely wrong. Teller's on the cot, curled into a fetal position; eyes open but staring blankly ahead. _

_"Jackson," she calls out, testing the waters. "I'm here to ask you some questions about what happened last night."_

_No response – not a word, not a sound, no indication that he's even heard her at all. As she moves closer she can see that he's shaking, slight tremors wracking his shoulders, arms, hands and legs._

_Alarmed, she checks his neck for a pulse. His skin is ice cold, clammy; his heartbeat is dangerously slow, barely discernible._

_She knows her successful track record as a DA was, in no small part, built on the diligent study of all her adversaries. And she has a wealth of knowledge about Jackson Teller, including his family's congenital heart problems. "Call an ambulance," she orders Cane. "We need to get him to the hospital NOW."_

* * *

><p>Jax decides early that he hates high school. Oh, he's good with the weekend parties, the steady supply of ready and willing high school girls (in addition to the ready and willing croweaters at the Club) and being able to spend the day with Opie - skipping classes to smoke under the bleachers by the track. But he hates, absolutely hates the pointlessness of having to study about shit he'll never use in a million years. His future is secure as the one day leader of SAMCRO, and nothing he could ever learn from fucking algebra or fucking world history would ever be of any use once he gets the gavel. It's a fucking waste of time, and he starts counting down to the day he can tell the tight-ass principal to fuck off when he finally drops out.<p>

It seems like an eternity, but freshman year finally, mercifully ends. He and Opie decide to celebrate with a double-header: kicking off the night at party thrown by graduating high school seniors and then by partying into the morning hours at the Club – both would be well stocked with booze and pussy.

Jax had just settled on the couch with a beer and his pussy of choice pulled onto his lap, when he sees her. For the second time in less than a year, Tara Knowles blows him away from a distance and renders everyone and everything around him invisible. Since their meeting in the cemetery and afternoon spent gorging on ice cream, he hasn't spent much time with her. It's not as if he'd been avoiding her; it just happened that way. They didn't have any classes together all year (apparently her test scores placed her in either freshman honors or upperclassmen level) and after school, instead of going to Opie's house, he and Opie either helped out at Teller Morrow or hung out at the Club. And she never attended any of their classmates' weekend parties or bonfires, at least not that he ever saw her.

Until now.

There's no way he could miss those long, lean legs and that perfectly shaped ass encased in snug jeans. And no way he could miss how her dark green button-up camisole skimmed her lean waist and cupped her full breasts, showing just enough cleavage to make a man forget his name. It also left her slender, pale arms bare so he could admire all that creamy, exposed skin. But then he realizes, to his mounting anger, just like last summer, there's another smarmy asshole touching her. It's a different guy this time; Jax vaguely recognizes Scott McKay, Charming High's starting quarterback and one of the graduating seniors hosting the party. What the fuck is up with Tara and these older guys? The jock strap is holding her hand and stroking her arm like she belongs to him. And Tara, goddamn her, just smiles up at this douchebag and touches his face. Jax's vision goes red. He does not like this; not one mother-fucking bit.

"Jax," he hears someone calling his name and then feels something wet and slimy in his ear. Shit, what's-her-name on his lap was trying to pull his attention back to her. It works, but instead of turning him on, he's annoyed. No, not just annoyed, he's fucking pissed. The douchebag is leading Tara by the hand out the patio door to the backyard, the dark and secluded backyard.

He pushes Slimy Tongue off of him and forces a cocky smile, "Sorry darlin', I gotta take a leak." It's a lie, but he's no longer in the mood for her, "I'll be right back." Another lie, but he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't even pretend to walk towards the bathroom but stalks right out the patio door.

Once out the door, Jax doesn't have to look far to find them; his eyes adjust quickly to the dim patio deck lights. The horny bastard has her pressed against the wall of a tool shed a few feet away. Tara wraps her arms around his neck as he bends down and sinks his tongue into her mouth. Jax's blood pressure rockets into the stratosphere. He rushes over to the edge of the patio, ready to launch himself over the deck railing and beat this guy to shit, when someone grabs him from behind and shoves him against the wall of the house.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Opie whispers furiously at him as he ducks the punch Jax blindly throws at him. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

Jax doesn't answer as he continues to struggle out of Opie's iron grasp, "Don't make me hurt you, man," he threatens his best friend, who out-weighs him by at least twenty pounds. "Get your fucking hands off me!" He's nearly shouting from the combination of frustration and fury.

"What're you gonna do?" Opie glares at him, trying to use reason to pull his friend back from the throes of his crazed temper. "Beat the hell out of that guy in front of her? You think you're gonna win points with her by showing that you're just like her old man?"

Jax immediately deflates, the fight leaving him in a rush. Too many times he's seen Tara in tears, shaking with fear and pain after her dad's drunken rages. He'd wanted to beat the shit out of Frank Knowles each time, but each time she'd beg him to stand down saying she didn't need to see that same violent behavior from one of her only friends. But his outrage is still there; he hates, fucking hates the sight - the very idea - of Tara with another guy. As if sensing his conflict, Opie releases his iron grip but continues to stand close, blocking Jax from making another attempt at jealousy-fueled murder.

But before either of them can do anything, Unser and Charming PD arrive to break up the party and herd everyone out. Apparently one (and probably more) of the neighbors was not happy with drunken, drugged-out high schools students spilling out of party central. Jax and Opie head over to their bikes; Jax keeping an eye on Tara and her date the whole time, scowling as McKay opens the car door for her.

"That asshole had better not have been drinking," he glares at the clean-cut football star as he walks around to the driver's side door and get in – if only looks _could_ kill. "I'm going to follow them to make sure she gets home okay."

Opie rolls his eyes, but nods that he would ride with Jax. Then he lets out the laugh he'd been holding back since he intercepted his friend from making a publicly jealous ass of himself.

"What the hell's so funny?" Jax grouses, speeding up so he doesn't lose sight of McKay's car. Not only does he want Tara home safe, but he also doesn't want that shitbag to think he can get any further with her - not in the back seat of that car or an invitation inside her house. He would definitely fucking kill that guy before either of those things could happen.

"This is the second time you've left some hot chick hanging to go brawl over turf that's not even yours," Opie teases. "She let you have it the last time; wonder what she'd do if she knew you were tailing her on a date like a psycho-stalker."

"Fuck you, Ope."

Ten minutes later, Jax sighs with relief. The fates have finally shown him some mercy after a completely shitty night as McKay drives Tara straight home. He and Opie sit on their bikes in the Winston driveway (partially hidden by Mary Winston's car so they don't look like pathetic, spying idiots - which Opie said was pretty much too late). Jax tenses when he sees McKay open Tara's car door and escort her to her front door. Her dad's Cutlass isn't in the driveway so the house is empty. He feels his blood pressure spiking again.

"Relax, bro." Opie hands him a cigarette – probably to keep him from chewing off his thumbnail.

Instead, Jax nearly sets his fingers on fire trying to light the match while watching intently as a smiling Tara talks softly to her shithead date. A calming smoke becomes moot as he winds up crushing the cigarette when McKay leans down to claim Tara's mouth. But before Jax can pounce, she steps away, smiles goodnight and goes inside – without her date, who stands there for a moment before getting into his car and driving away.

Opie breaks the silence, "I'm going to the Club, time to have some fun," he looks at Jax pointedly. "It's not even eleven, Old Man Knowles won't be home for hours – longer if he spends another night in the drunk tank." And with that, he rides off knowing that Jax would not be going to the Club with him.

Jax watches Opie ride off and then turns to stare at Tara's front door, walking towards it slowly. It's the point of no return. He finally admits to himself that he has been avoiding her deliberately; knows he's not entirely comfortable with his confused feelings for the girl he's known pretty much his entire life. This new, crazy possessiveness and intense sexual attraction combined with the bone deep affection he's always had for her scares the shit out of him. If he makes the next move, he knows his life will change dramatically. If she doesn't return his feelings and turns him down, then he'd lose her as a friend because he knows now that he can't be "just friends" with her because he'll always want more. But then if she does welcome this change to their relationship, it would be the first time so much of his happiness could be wrapped up in a single person. Both options are equally terrifying. But it's the latter that keeps him striding towards her front door and ringing the doorbell.

She's still wearing the sexy camisole and tight jeans that she wore at the party, but her long hair, which had been flowing straight and sleek down her back, is now in its usual pony tail. His fingers itch to pull it free.

"Jax? Are you okay? Is something wrong at the Winston's?" She looks worried and steps aside to let him in so she can peer out the door at her neighbor's house, as if expecting to see emergency vehicles lining the Winston driveway.

He shakes his head, shuts and locks the door before pulling her into his arms. He smiles broadly and gazes down into her beautiful, albeit startled, face before slanting his mouth over hers. Stunned surprise renders her momentarily immobile, then those slender arms wrap around his waist and she kisses him back with equal ferocity. His knees nearly buckle in relief and desire as she wraps her tongue around his. She moves her hands under his shirt to feel the hot skin of his back. He pulls her hair out of ponytail holder and runs his hands through the soft, silky mass. He squeezes her tighter so that he can feel the press of those lush breasts against him and grind his hard cock against her. He wants to pull off that camisole and see for himself if her nipples are as pink as he envisioned just a few months ago.

"Tara," he groans, dragging his mouth from hers to nibble on her neck. She immediately begins to rub against him harder, gripping his ass with both hands. "Oh shit, you make me so crazy," he breathes into her neck, licking at the soft skin and savoring her moans of pleasure as she trembles in his arms.

Then her hands still, and she pulls away slightly to stare at him, her green eyes bright with newly awakened desire. She presses a hand to his cheek, "Jax, what are we doing? What is this?"

She's confused. Well good; that makes both of them. He's not entirely sure he knows what he's doing; he just knows that he's done seeing her with other guys. Which means he needs to claim her for himself. But before he can stumble through an explanation, her always nimble brain jumps to the logical conclusion when it comes to his reputation with the female gender.

"I'm not ready to have sex yet," she tells him softly, pulling out of his arms. "I can't be as casual about it as you are."

He wants to tell her that nothing is casual for him when it comes to her. Yes, he wants to fuck her in the worst way. But he also wants to wait until she's completely ready because when it does finally happen between them, he knows it will be life altering. For now, he's willing to take whatever she's willing to give him because even the smallest part of her would dwarf anything he could ever want from anyone else.

"I didn't come here for that, Tara," he assures her, drawing her back to him. It's not exactly a lie; he really didn't come to her expecting sex, but a man can always hope. "I just want you to know that I want to be more than friends with you. I've wanted that for a long time now but just wasn't sure whether I'd be ready for it, that you'd be ready for it. I've never felt like this before." As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows there's no way he could have ever said any of this stuff to anyone else and not feel like a complete pussy. But with Tara - like all things - everything is different, special, better.

"I'll wait for as long as it takes, Tara." He strokes her face, savoring the feel of her soft skin and the beauty of those mossy green eyes.

She gives him a slow, gorgeous smile, "Do you want to stay here tonight? I'm sure there are other fun things we can do," her smile turns impish, teasing as she plays with the zipper on his hoodie. Not wanting to waste a single minute, he grins, lifts her over his shoulder and makes a quick beeline for her bedroom, stroking that perfect ass while she squeals in delight.

* * *

><p>He was right; her nipples are indeed pale pink, thick and suckable and highly sensitive. He's very proud of himself that he's been able to make her come just by suckling, licking and nibbling on those tight pink buds – over and over. During the long summer days and nights, Jax becomes a diligent student of Tara Knowles; taking his time to learn everything there is to know about pleasuring her body. Besides those delicious nipples, he learns that her neck is also incredibly sensitive. Even the slightest pressure from his hands or lips on the sides or back of her neck, and she's ready to tear off his clothes. He knows exactly where on her body to touch, stroke and kiss to make her tremble with passion, moan with desire and scream with ecstasy.<p>

During her more intense orgasms, she practically chants his name over and over; fuck, does he loves that. But the absolute best is knowing that, despite her reserved demeanor with most people, she can be aggressive and playful and rather adventurous with him. They could be at the movies, at the diner eating burgers or at the ice cream parlor, and suddenly he'd feel her soft, magical hand in his lap stroking him, rubbing him until he'd be rock hard and near insane. Then she would drag him into the nearest bathroom, closet, backseat or dense set of bushes and finish him off with her lush pink lips, nimble tongue and hot mouth. Shit, it's amazing for him to realize that – despite the dozens of sexual encounters he'd had before Tara – none had ever been this intense, this mind-blowing, this fucking hot and they've not even had actual sex yet.

He knows he's in deep shit with her, but that's okay because he also knows that she's in equally deep shit with him. Despite her passionate, sensually adventurous nature - she'd actually never done most of the stuff she'd done with him with anyone else. He knows he's a total fucking hypocrite, but it's a damn good thing no other guy has ever made her come or been inside her or has had his naked dick anywhere near her, because he honestly thinks he could kill any guy who had carnal knowledge of his girl. Tara Knowles belongs to him and he intends to keep it that way.

* * *

><p>Opie mocks him, making whipping noises whenever it's just the two of them - which Opie points out is not as often anymore because Jax can't walk from here to there, blow his nose or wipe his ass without talking about, talking to or touching his girlfriend. Of course, he keeps his teasing to a minimum when Tara is with them. Being the only children of dysfunctional marriages on top of having grown up next door to each other, Opie and Tara are the closest to brother and sister the other has. And being all of four months older than her, Opie feels a big brother's need, not only to protect her, but also to harass the living shit out of her boyfriend.<p>

"It's super cute to see you this way, Jackson," he coos in a sing-song voice just as Tara walks through the door, and Jax lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Shut the fuck up," Jax growls, but he can't keep the smile off his face as he goes to grab her hand.

* * *

><p>Jax's sixteenth birthday falls during one of the last weekends of summer; it's a huge deal as he'll finally get the Harley and cut that he's been dreaming of owning since childhood. Once he turns sixteen, he'll finally be a Prospect - the first step to fulfilling his father's legacy. So Gemma is both surprised and furious when he tells her that he wants the SAMCRO party that she's planning for him to be the day after his birthday because he wants to do something else on the actual date.<p>

"You're shitting me," she yells at him in disbelief. "What could possibly be more important than celebrating with the Club? With your Brothers?" And four months ago, he would have agreed with her.

"Listen Mom, I still plan to celebrate with everyone. Just a day later; I don't see the big deal. Opie and I have plans with some kids from school on the actual day." It's not exactly a lie; he has been making plans to celebrate his birthday – just not with Opie. "Besides, it's better to have that party on the Saturday anyway. Gives the charters and nomads another day to get here."

He'd been preparing his line of reasoning for days, knowing that Gemma would fight him on the decision, and possibly question his priorities. She continues to rail at him – especially when he tells her that he doesn't plan on waiting until the party to get his Harley. Days later, she finally concedes when she realizes that he – the one actually having the birthday – was not going to back down. But Gemma Teller is no one's pushover; he knows she suspects that he's keeping something from her (which he is), and she'll get it out of him eventually.

On the day of his birthday, he finally gets his long-awaited Harley. It's a special moment at TM; Gemma, Clay and all his Brothers – Opie, Piney, Otto, Bobby, Chibs and Tig are there to congratulate him with hugs – and ribbing - all around. Gemma is still suspicious over his birthday plans, shooting him and Opie calculated glances as they both marvel over the new bike. "You two have fun today," she prods, waiting for one of them to crack.

Opie, the best friend a guy could ever have, shoots Jax a broad grin, "Oh _WE_ will."

* * *

><p>Now that he has his Harley, he wants to take Tara to one of his favorite spots – a secluded park near the base of Mt. Walker, about an hour's ride from Charming, where JT used to take him and Tommy on overnight camping trips. Jax had loved it there but hadn't been able to bring himself to go back since his old man died. Now he wants to share this special place with his special girl.<p>

Tara has never been on a motorcycle before; he can tell she's both excited and apprehensive. "Babe, I promise, it's totally safe," he assures her. "I've been riding my whole life. My old man taught me, and he was the best." He feeds her soft, pecking kisses until she completely melts and climbs on behind him. As she wraps her arms around his middle, he realizes he's made one miscalculation – yeah, he's been riding pretty much most of his life, but he's never had the luscious body of Tara Knowles pressed against his back, her long legs open and rubbing against his. Shaking his head ruefully, he pulls out of her driveway; an hour on a rumbling Harley with a raging erection was going to be interesting. Hopefully he doesn't do anything to embarrass himself or get them killed.

She loves it; he can tell right away. Her face is flushed, and there's an exultant sparkle to those green eyes as she beams at him. "That was incredible!" She grabs his face and plants a smacking kiss on his lips. He pulls her even closer and starts nibbling on the sensitive skin on her neck, savoring her breathy moans. "You're incredible, Tara."

He sets up a tent, but it's late summer in Northern California so the air's still warm despite the setting sun. After a light dinner, they decide it's too nice not to sleep outside and cuddle inside the makeshift bed Tara's made with their sleeping bags. It's a clear night with a full moon and brightly lit stars so he can see her beautiful face clearly. For several long moments, all he can do is stare in wonder at how lucky he is to have her in his life.

"Happy Birthday, Jax," she whispers in his ear, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine. She presses hot, wet kisses against his throat, hardening his dick more than he thought possible. He moves to claim her mouth while she strokes and rubs him through his tented jeans. She smiles as he moans her name; pulling down his zipper and the top of his boxers to grasp his cock. He's hard and hot and wet against her hand. She reaches down to cup his balls, fondling the sacs gently, knowing how ultra-sensitive he is there, "Fuck, Tara, that feels so fucking good," he gasps against her neck, sucking the sensitive skin, making her moan his name and grip him harder.

"Please babe, got to slow down," he pants as he grinds against her hand. She gives his balls a firm squeeze that elicits another loud moan and string of curses from him, then switches to one finger to stroke the head of his cock - smearing the wetness across the smooth and slippery dome. When she removes her hand altogether, he jerks out of his blissful daze and stares into her smoldering green eyes.

"I love how you taste," she lifts her finger, wet from his pre-come, and sucks it slowly into her mouth. "I want to drink more later," she promises suggestively. He feels his cock jerk against her thigh as he surges up to claim her mouth in a bruising kiss.

After the highly arousing tongue duel, she breaks away and pushes him back into the sleeping bag. She sits up to pull off her hoodie, and he notices that she's wearing that sexy, green button-down camisole that had driven him crazy before. She traces the shell of his ear with her tongue before whispering that she's not wearing a bra, just for him. His self-control snaps; he pushes her down on her back and tears open her camisole so those glorious, lush breasts are bare and ready for his hands to fondle and his mouth to suck. She rears up in anticipation, and he opens his mouth to take in as much of her right breast as he can. But his girl is more than a mouthful, and he loves it. Loves it.

"Jax, oh god Jax," she gasps, her hands tunneling through his hair, gripping tightly. "Fuck me, baby. Now," she moans louder as his tongue presses her nipple against the roof of his mouth, "Now."

He pulls away slighting, raising himself up on not-so-steady arms to stare at her, hoping to god that he's hearing her right. "Tara," he strokes her face, "Are you sure?" He hates asking that question, giving her an out, but he wants her to want him inside her – as much as he's been dying for it. Hedging his bets, he starts ripping open her jeans.

"I brought condoms," she pants as he finds and rubs her clit, again and again. Her head rolls back in ecstasy as he drives one and then two long fingers inside her while he continues to press his thumb against her clit, "Fuck me," she cries out, "Jax, please."

He doesn't need to be asked again. He rips off her jeans and underwear and then reaches over to his bag (strategically placed next to his head) for his condoms. Quickly, he rips open the foil and sheaths himself. Rising above her, he settles between her open thighs. He braces himself with one hand next to her head while cupping a bare breast with the other. He bends his head to lick her nipple, each tongue lash harder and wetter than the other until she's chanting his name.

He spreads her legs wider and enters her slowly, pushing through her hot, slick folds. Fuck, she's so wet and so tight, he has to hold himself still otherwise he'd come right there. His eyes slide to the back of his head; the pleasure so intense.

He feels the pinch of her short nails into his back, and he reminds himself again that he needs to go slow; it's her first time, and he'd die if he hurt her. Slowly, slowly he pushes forward, piercing the barrier that causes her to whimper in pain, "It's ok, babe," he croons to her, softly kissing her forehead, "I'll make it good. I promise."

Finally, he's fully embedded, breathing hard and ready to explode. But he can't move yet, not until he knows she's alright.  
>"Babe," he presses another kiss to her forehead. "Look at me," he begs, almost desperately. Those long, long lashes flutter open and he's nearly impaled by the force of those beautiful green eyes staring up at him with such trust, "You, okay?" he grunts as he feels her muscles start to contract, squeezing his already too-eager cock. She nods and rears up to stroke his lips with a lingering kiss. With that he snaps to action and starts to pump, driving his cock inside her, deeper and deeper. He hears her scream his name, feels her wet heat gushing over his cock as her long legs tighten around his waist. He's coming apart – the pressure starting from the top of his head, shooting intense waves of ecstasy down his neck and spine, clenching his ass and emptying his balls as he comes and comes and comes.<p>

Jax knows that he's probably crushing her, but he can't find the strength to move. Like he's been paralyzed by the sheer force of the strongest orgasm he's ever experienced. He tries to catch his breath as he looks down at her gazing at him, a smile lighting up that beautiful face. He's hit by a rush of emotion so profound, so intense that he can't speak.

"Happy birthday, baby" she beams up at him, stroking his wet face with her soft, warm hand. Fuck, he hopes he's just been sweating profusely. After all, his little virgin has wrung him dry. Had he really cried while making love to her?

He stares at her as if memorizing her beautiful, smiling face in this moment and is suddenly overwhelmed by a powerful surge of emotions; affection, joy, protectiveness – it's as if he's always felt those things with her. But now there's one more, one that's been bubbling to the surface for months, maybe even years. One that he'd felt before for family, for friends – but never this deep, this consuming. He knows what it is, knows that it's real, knows that it's forever. He opens his mouth to speak and swallows hard as she continues to stroke his face; fuck, were those tears prickling his eyes again?

"I love you, Tara."

She says nothing and, for a heartbeat, he panics. She pulls his head down to rain soft kisses on his face, his lips. But before he can deepen the kiss, she pulls away, and her deep green gaze bores into him.

"I love you, too, Jax. So much. So much."

* * *

><p>"What the hell's a matter with you, boy?" For the hundredth time, he glances at the Clubhouse entrance; nervous energy driving him to pace back and forth around the room, chain smoking cigarettes and chugging beer like water. The SAMCRO party is in full swing, and he'd spent the early part of the night playing the role of Jax Teller, Biker Prince, greeting and catching up with Brothers from different charters who made the trip. But Bobby Munson has known him since he was a kid and can tell something's off.<p>

Opie's supposed to bring Tara to the party, but they're over a half hour late, which worries him. He runs through the events of last night and this morning, smiling to himself at how Tara woke him up with her tongue in his ear and her hand on his dick. He'd taught her how to ride him, and she'd blown his mind. When he dropped her off at home early this afternoon, she'd given him a long, wet kiss and assured him that she'd be here tonight. So where the hell is she?

He tries to play it cool in front of Bobby; wrinkling his eyebrows, pretending to be confused by the question. But after he darts another expectant glance at the Clubhouse entrance, Bobby gets in his face. "You feelin' ok? You know it hasn't gone un-noticed here that you haven't as much as looked at a croweater in months…"

Jax doesn't need this; he'd already had to deal with Gemma this afternoon. As expected, she'd gone poking around and found out that Opie spent last night with Kyle and Lowell partying in Lodi – thus blowing Jax's cover. She was waiting for him when he got home, armed with her intel and suspicions.

_"Any reason why I haven't been introduced to the pussy who has my son jumping around like a goddamn trained seal – not to mention lying to his family?"_

_He knew he shouldn't let her bait him, but he couldn't let this go. Not after last night. "Tara's not pussy, Mom," he snarled and amped the wrath in his glare. "Don't ever talk that way about her again." _

_"Tara? Tara Knowles? Frank's daughter? The little girl that Tommy followed around for months?" _

Jax closes his eyes, cursing his temper. So much for having Tara come to the party under the radar. It's vital to him that she be here, see him get his Prospect cut. However, he didn't want to subject her to the intense scrutiny from his Brothers, not to mention Gemma - which would be inevitable if they know what she meant to him. He shudders at the thought; he needs more time with Tara to cement what they have before he can subject her to his mother.

"Who's the chick with Opie?" Kozik, a Brother from the Tacoma charter, sidles up to Jax and Bobby and points his beer towards the door, "If he ain't laying claim, I'd sure like an introduction…"

Jax whirls around and feels his heart skip an actual fucking beat at the sight of Tara approaching, a bright smile lighting up her face. Shit, it's only been a few hours and he's already missed her so fucking much. How the hell did he think he could keep her under the radar? There's no hiding the most beautiful girl in the world, nor how he feels about her. He places his beer on the bar and grins a warning at Kozik, "She's mine."

* * *

><p>He feels the pain like someone's ripped out his insides. And in a way, Mary Winston leaving town and taking Opie with her is tantamount to that. Born a month apart to fathers who were best friends, he and Opie had pretty much been joined at the hip from an early age. And they shared a destiny to one day lead SAMCRO, which they had always planned to do together. But Mary doesn't want her only son following in his father's footsteps and decides to take him away weeks before Opie turns sixteen and gets his Prospect cut.<p>

He and Tara help Opie pack up his stuff, which doesn't turn out to be that much since Opie refuses to take most of it, saying that he plans to be back for extended visits. After loading everything in the car, Jax watches helplessly as Tara throws her arms around Opie's waist and sobs against his chest. Towering over her, Opie strokes her hair and kisses the top of her head. Jax realizes that he's been so caught up in his own misery that he'd forgotten how Opie's departure would hurt her, too. He knows that he and Opie are pretty much the only family she has since her old man certainly doesn't give a shit about her, that drunk bastard.

Struggling to keep his own composure, he envelops Opie in a bear hug, "Take care of yourself, Brother. Get back here soon."

"Yeah, I will." Opie squeezes him back then pulls back and gives him playful shove, "Otherwise I'd miss your ugly face."

Jax can't imagine the long road ahead without his best friend; hadn't ever even considered it. As they watch Opie and Mary drive away, Tara grips his arm and squeezes his hand. He lifts their entwined hands and presses a kiss to her fingers before wrapping his arms around her.

When Mary's car disappears, Tara leads him into her house and into her room. She pushes him down to sit on her bed so she can straddle his lap. She tucks his hair behind his ears, then strokes his face. "I love you, Jackson." She kisses his cheek, "Love you." And his forehead, "Love you more than anything." When he finally breaks down and buries his face into her neck, she holds him tightly. "I'm here, baby. I'm here."


	4. Hold on to These Simple Moments

**Chapter 3: HOLD ON TO THESE SIMPLE MOMENTS**

_"Shit, his blood pressure's dropping. We're gonna lose him!" _

_Sitting in the back of the ambulance, Patterson watches in alarm as the paramedics work quickly and methodically to save Jackson Teller. She can't help but find it ironic that they're all striving to save the life of a man who could be responsible for more death than they could possibly imagine. But she doesn't want him to die; she needs him alive. Two good people are dead, brutally murdered, and he could be key – if not the answer – to finding out what happened. Also, as a mother, she can't help but grieve for those two baby boys who lost their mother last night. Hopefully they won't have to lose their father as well._

* * *

><p>Jax isn't used to competing for a woman's attention. Pretty much since the day he was born, he'd been a beacon for feminine interest – never really having to work to get what he wanted from women, when he wanted it. So he's at a total fucking loss when his own girlfriend isn't fully available to him.<p>

Over the summer, he and Tara were virtually inseparable; it was impossible for them to be apart even for a few minutes, impossible for one not to be touching the other. Once Jax discovered how truly fucking amazing it felt to be completely connected to her - he didn't want to be anywhere else, with anybody else. And he knows by the way she looks at him, smiles at him, touches him that she feels the same intense pull that burns in him for her.

But now that school's started again, he hates that he has to share her with teachers and classes and homework and all the other shit that keeps her away from him. He spends every night with her, wakes up every morning with her, steals time between classes with her; it just never seems to be enough. It's like his head, his heart and his dick are in an endless state of craving that has him constantly thinking up ways to be with her.

Just like their freshman year, Tara's gifted brain results in a school schedule made up of advanced classes that he could never hope to share with her. Except for one. Surprising Tara, the teacher and himself - he asks for a chance to test into the Honors English class; apparently there's nothing he won't do to get more time with his girl. Fortunately, all those afternoons spent reading books together pays off, and he gets into the class. And secures the services of a gorgeous, sexy tutor to boot.

"Shit, this has got to be the longest book ever…" He feels like he's been reading forever, but the end doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight. Nestled against him, reading her own copy, Tara looks up and smiles, "Jax, this is the abridged version. The actual book is about a thousand pages long. Consider yourself lucky."

Putting her book down, she straddles his lap and wraps her arms around him. "I would've thought these macho action novels would be right up your alley, Mr. SAMCRO," she teases, placing a light kiss on his lips. "Prison break, revenge…all we're missing is a high speed car chase."

"Don't think they had those things in 19th century France, Knowles," he counters, pulling her tight against him. "It's not that I don't like it; story's actually pretty good – just a lot of crap about nothing in between the good parts." Speaking of good parts, he nuzzles her neck and squeezes that incredible ass with both hands.

"Yeah, I guess," she murmurs, her fingers tunneling through his hair. "To be honest, I don't really get it. If I escaped from prison like him, I'd disappear. Wouldn't go back and risk getting caught."

"No way, babe." He slowly, wetly licks her neck and smiles when she shivers and grinds against him, "Got to make those assholes pay for stealing his life…." He lifts his hands from her ass to start unbuttoning her blouse, "...and stealing his girl. Well that's the worst." He opens the front clasp of her bra and sucks on a rosy pink nipple, absolutely loving how the soft bud hardens against his tongue. "Man, I'd kill anyone who tried to do that."

* * *

><p>School's not the only problem; he finds that his new responsibilities as a Prospect also pose a threat to their time together.<p>

Gemma won't allow Clay to put him to work during school hours, so after school and on weekends he's required to be at Teller Morrow to work at the garage until the Club needs him for something, anything. Consequently, Jax abandons any previous notions of keeping Tara away from the Club or Gemma and brings her with him every time he can. He needs her close to him, even if it means catching shit from his Brothers when they see how bad he really has it for her. Although after his Prospect party, he supposes they know - especially after he uncharacteristically warned off Kozik in front of Bobby and then disappeared with her, less than an hour after she showed up with Opie.

Gemma is another story; she's clearly not happy with his relationship with Tara. Although he's not sure whether her objection is with Tara personally or the fact that he has a girlfriend at all. He suspects the later and not just because he can't fathom anyone having a beef with Tara. Even before he got involved with Tara, Gemma had warned him about distractions; that he had to be focused, committed and not let anything or anyone get in the way of his destiny to one day lead SAMCRO. He agreed with his mother then and now; he just doesn't see how being in love with Tara could possibly interfere with him fulfilling that destiny. Tara knows how important JT and the Club are to him; the night of his Prospect party she had beamed proudly at him when he put his cut on for the first time. Also, being with her makes him happy, happier than he'd ever been in his life. So in his mind, there's no reason why his endgame couldn't include both SAMCRO and Tara – the gavel in his hand and the girl he loves by his side. If Gemma can't see the perfection in that, well that was her problem.

"You sure you want to be doin' this?" Piney asks him one afternoon. Jax has one eye on the engine he's helping Piney repair and the other one on Tara doing homework at the picnic table just outside the garage. "Tara's a good girl; you might want to think about some of the shit she might see, bein' here all the time."

It's been three months since he received his Prospect patch; three months of eye-opening shit that he never dreamed in a million years that the Club would do for cash, for leverage, for retaliation. It had shaken him at first, but it didn't take him long to realize that he loved the thrill, the adrenaline rush that surged through him each time he rode out with his Brothers. He knows that there's more shit that they're keeping from him until he's older; but instead of scaring him, he can't fucking wait.

That doesn't mean he wants Tara anywhere near the Club's darker side; he's careful about what he tells her when she asks about what they do, careful about the people he lets her meet. But he needs her to be here – for her to accept his Brothers and for his Brothers to accept her; the Club is part of him, his future – and if he's lucky, a future she'll share with him.

"She'll be fine," he tells Piney. "The guys know that they can't say shit around her – or any of the other chicks here."

"Tara's smarter than your average croweater, boy." Piney informs him, as if Jax didn't already know. "Smarter than anyone here – me and you included. So you'd better know how to handle her and how to keep her safe if shit goes sideways, 'cause it always does."

"I'd never let anyone hurt Tara," Jax vows coldly, "Not anyone or anything." He stares hard at Piney then looks down at the engine. "I just need her here. With me." When he looks back up, the man who was his dad's best friend is grinning at him.

"Hell kid, you really have it bad," Piney chuckles then looks over to the now empty picnic table. "Although looks like you're just as shitty at baby sittin' as you are at fixin' engines."

Frowning, Jax quickly scans the area around the picnic table noting that all of Tara's books and papers are gone as well.

"Probably went inside," Piney surmises. "Go," he releases Jax for the afternoon. "Just hope that she doesn't run into Tig. There's somethin' wrong with that guy."

Inside the Clubhouse, he finds her almost immediately; stopping dead in his tracks. Tara is bent over the pool table lining up her shot while the rest of the guys stand behind her, admiring the view. Jax grits his teeth, trying not to be annoyed at all these assholes ogling his girlfriend.

Apparently not sensing his agitation, Lowell walks over to him, smiling smugly. "I bet Tig a hundred bucks that a girl could take him three games in a row." The admission shakes Jax out of his ill temper, and he smirks knowingly at Lowell. Tara Knowles, Pool Shark. Tig wouldn't know about the countless number of times Tara had totally smoked him, Lowell, Opie or anyone dumb enough to challenge her at pool. Piney had taught them all how to play on the pool table in the Winston basement. However, it didn't take Tara long to out-master the master and crush them all. When it came to anything that required concentration and a steady hand, Tara owned it.

In less than an hour, she and Lowell are a hundred dollars richer, leaving a red-faced Tig to the mercy of the heckling audience. Jax grins as she walks over to him, loving the bright gleam in those green eyes. "Hi, baby," she sighs, wrapping her arms around him, sinking those soft hands into his back pockets, cupping his ass.

"Ice cream's on me, Teller," she smiles up at him before he claims her mouth in a smoldering kiss.

* * *

><p>Jax knew it was inevitable by the way they'd been carrying on for the past year and a half, but it still stings when Gemma tells him that she's going to marry Clay. It's been about eighteen months since JT died so the pain's still fresh for him; he can't understand how his mother could move on and replace his dad so quickly. He can't look at her; can't stand to be here in this house - where his dad had lived and now where his mom plans to live with another man. Turning on his heels, he storms out, ignoring her pleas to come back and talk about to her.<p>

Jumping on his Harley, he thinks about just taking off – riding to no place in particular, riding until the pain that's choking him is nothing but dust under his wheels. But then he knows there's really only one place he wants to be, needs to be.

The Cutlass is in the driveway; it's still pretty early in the evening so Old Man Knowles hasn't gone out yet. He decides to wait for Tara's dad to leave; he hates the way the man treats his daughter so he avoids all contact, knowing he may not be able to stop himself from beating the man senseless. But after sitting on his bike for five minutes, he can't wait anymore; he needs her now. Bracing himself, he walks to the door and rings the bell.

"Jax? What's wrong?" She can read him like no other; concern sweeps across her face as she immediately senses his disquiet.

"Come with me, Tara," he grips her slender arms. "Please."

Nodding, she lets him pull her down the steps to his bike. She asks no questions; just straps on the helmet and wraps her arms around his waist as he guns the engine and takes off into the night.

Jax drives them to the park a few miles away; it's deserted, but he rides to the secluded spot that they discovered months before. He barely waits for her to remove the helmet before he pulls her into his arms, burying his face into her shoulder.

"Baby, what is it? Tell me…" She rubs his back with those soft yet strong and soothing hands; he feels the tension that's been threatening to break him start to melt away.

He pulls away enough to stare into her beautiful face, softly illuminated by the star-lit night, keeping his arms wrapped around her. "Gemma told me that she's marrying Clay next week. Next-fucking-week."

She reaches up to push a lock of hair behind his ear then strokes his cheek; "I'm sorry, Baby. It's been a year and a half since JT died, right?" He nods, and she pulls his head down to kiss him softly then continues to caress his face. "Maybe she's lonely, Jax. I'm not trying to justify anything, I barely know your mom. But we all have our own ways of coping with loss. Some people just can't be alone."

"She's not alone," he huffs. "She has me."

Tara lifts a perfectly shaped brow, "And where are you now? Where have you been the past few months?" Giving him a soft smile, she pulls out of his arms, "Not that I'm complaining, Teller." She reaches over to pull out the blanket he always has rolled up and attached to his bike. He watches her spread the blanket under the tree, sit down and extend her hand out to him. He's not happy that Tara might be able to see his mother's side in this shit, but he can't resist the lure of her. Sitting down next to her, he pulls her into his arms again, tucking her head under his chin so he can savor the scent and softness of her hair.

"When my mom died, my dad was never the same." She links his hands with hers, "When she was alive, he was a pretty cool dad sometimes. But when we lost her, he just gave up. Nothing matters to him anymore: not me or his job or his health – he just keeps drinking more and more. He stopped living years ago; just going through the motions. Maybe if he had found someone else, he wouldn't be so lost. You don't want that life for your mom, Jax." She shifts so she can stare into his eyes, cradle his face in her soft hands. "Your mother loves you, Jax. But she didn't die with your dad. Moving on may be the only way that she can stay with the living, so that she can stay with you."

His throat is too tight; he can't speak. But he can grab her and hang onto her with all the strength he has. He kisses the top of her head again and again until he finally manages to get his emotions under control. He presses his forehead to hers, "I love you, Tara." He clasps her hands in his, squeezing tight. "I love you so much."

* * *

><p>It's a warm night in late spring for Gemma and Clay's wedding. They're getting married in his backyard, and the house and yard are crammed with SAMCRO members, their Old Ladies and all sorts of assorted guests. Jax is still not happy about his mom getting married so soon, but after listening to Tara's perspective, he's at least at peace with the idea.<p>

Tara. He smiles as she drifts into his thoughts for the millionth time today; he never thought he could ever love anyone as much as he loves her. Slammed all day with wedding preparations, he hasn't had a chance to see or talk to her since leaving her bed this morning, and he's ready to climb the walls. But he made sure that Gemma invited her as there's no way he's getting through this without his girl by his side. She's coming tonight with Piney and Opie – another reason to celebrate as Opie finally convinced Mary to let him move back to Charming. Jax has his best friend back.

"Your hot girlfriend gonna be here tonight?" Kozik greets him with a smile and an affectionate slap on the back. Jax really likes Kozik, always has, but he has no tolerance for any man's interest in Tara. He glares at his Brother. "Yeah, stay from her." Kozik just laughs and walks off.

"Jax!" He knows that voice. Grinning broadly, he turns around to greet Opie – relishing the giant sight of his best friend before pulling him into a crushing hug. "How you doin', Bro?" He pounds Opie's back with heartfelt slaps and feels Opie do the same to him.

"Can't complain." Opie looks around, surveying the wedding madness around them. "This is some spread. You okay with everything?" Yeah, his best friend knows him well.

"Gettin' through it," he replies, then frowns when he realizes that Opie's alone. "Where's Tara? I thought she was coming with you guys." He starts to scan the throng of party guests almost frantically.

"Relax, Bro." Opie pulls two beers off a waiter's tray and hands one to Jax. "She's here somewhere. Got waylaid by your mom when we walked in the door."

Jax eyes narrow. Holy shit, if his mother said anything to her to upset her there'd be hell to pay. "What? What did Gemma say to her?"

But before Opie can reply, he sees Tara gliding towards them, that gorgeous smile lighting up his world. She looks amazing; her hair pulled up in a soft twist, framing that beautiful face, and wearing a pale green dress that makes his hands itch to touch her. Held up by thin spaghetti straps, the dress clings to the curves of her breasts then flows all the way down to the ground in loose swirls. Although hidden, her long legs look even longer as he realizes that she's probably wearing heels. He can't wait to wrap those legs around him, heels and all. He feels his heart start to pound as he smiles back at her.

"Shit, it's worse." Opie laughs, giving him another sound slap on his shoulder. Before he can tell Opie to fuck off (like old times), Tara is there pulling his head down for a kiss. "Hi Baby," she whispers against his lips then reaches down to squeeze his hand. He lifts their linked hands to his mouth so he can kiss her fingers. "Definitely worse," he hears Opie say.

When Lowell and Kyle pull Opie away for some catch-up, Jax finds a semi-secluded spot to greet his girlfriend properly. "You look beautiful," he tells her, stroking her bare shoulders and pressing slow, soft kisses to her lips. Then remembering what Opie told him, "What did Gemma say to you when you got here?"

"Wow, I never knew Opie was such a gossip," she smiles up at him. "She just thanked me for coming. It was nice." He must have looked skeptical. "Really, Jax. I was surprised because I know she doesn't like me." He frowns knowing that his mother's usual coldness is a sore spot for his girl. Tara pretends it doesn't bother her, but he knows some small part of her seeks his mother's approval as if to somehow fill the void of losing her own mother. He squeezes her tighter.

"Well it looks like everything's about to start." He sees Clay signaling him and reluctantly releases her. "I'll find you after the ceremony."

"You'd better." She gives him a saucy smile, pulls something out of the hidden slit pocket of her dress and leans closer to him. He tightens his grip on her shoulder, instantly alert; she usually flashes him that smile right before she's about to rock his world. "I'm not wearing anything under this dress," she whispers hotly in his ear. He freezes, feeling her fingers putting something into his pocket. "You can put this back on me later." She presses a wet kiss to his neck, gives him a sizzling smile and then walks off to sit near the Winstons.

He stares after her dumbly. Reaching into his pocket, he feels the familiar silky fabric. Holy fuck, his girlfriend isn't wearing underwear because her panties are in his pocket. He starts to laugh; well she managed to put a smile on his face so he can walk his mother down the aisle without scowling. But he needs to do something real quick to get rid of his hard-on or people are gonna get the wrong fucking idea.

The ceremony lasts too goddamn long, and there's too many fucking people in his way. Jax's patience is starting to wear thin as all he can think about is the silky weight in his pocket and that somewhere in this horde, his girlfriend is surrounded by SAMCRO bikers while wearing nothing under her dress.

He spots Opie first, easy to do since he and Piney tower over most people; Tara is standing next to him sipping champagne. He starts to breathe easier until he sees that Kozik's on her other side, and she's smiling over something that he's saying to her. Fuck, did people from Tacoma not understand English? What part of "stay away from her" did Kozik not understand? Opie must have seen him approaching, must have seen the expression on his face because he rolls his eyes, apologizes to Tara and then drags Kozik away to the next room.

Jax greets Tara with a hard kiss that no doubt gets the rest of the room buzzing, takes her champagne glass from her and then pulls her out of the room. He ignores all the people who try to greet them, saying nothing even when she tugs on his hand, "Jax, where are we going?" Not stopping until he's locked them in his bedroom.

"Fuck, you make me crazy, Tara." He gives her another hard kiss, unzipping the back of her dress and pulling the straps down to see for himself that her breast are bare underneath. He groans when her thick pink nipples come into view. He cups her breasts, pushes them together, sucking one nipple then the other, over and over until she's panting his name.

He pushes her down onto the bed and moves down her body, lifting the skirt of dress, bunching it to her waist. Christ, she's beautiful; he swallows hard, admiring those long legs, slim thighs and dark curls. She's wet; he can see the moisture glistening in those curls, on the inside of her thighs. "Jax," she moans his name, running her fingers through his hair, "I need you…"

He spreads her thighs wider, draping her legs over his shoulders and then sinks his tongue into her wet heat. "Jax, oh god, Jax." She's grips his hair when he replaces his tongue with his fingers and starts sucking her clit. Fuck, he loves the taste and feel and smell of her. He's prodding her clit with his tongue - his fingers still inside her - when she comes, drenching his hands and mouth. He laps it all up and then climbs over her, planting his hands on either side of her head. Her nipples are still hard, still wet from his thorough suckling and he licks them both once, twice before he devours her mouth.

She starts tearing at his clothes; together, they pull off his cut and open his shirt. He shrugs out of his shirt while she strokes his nipples, rearing up to suck one into her hot mouth. "Shit, babe." He's momentarily paralyzed by how good that feels. Still sucking his nipple, she attacks his fly, yanking down his zipper and boxers. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth as she pleasures his cock - fondling his balls with one hand while massaging the wet tip with the other.

"Hold on, babe." He leans back so he could pull off her dress and rip off his pants. He digs through his drawer for a condom; sheathing himself quickly – despite his shaking hands. He sits down on the bed and pulls her on top of him, impaling her on his stiff cock. He latches his mouth to her neck, sucking strongly, while his hands cup those lush breasts, his thumbs rubbing her nipples. She rides him hard, her inner muscles squeezing his dick while she rocks up and down in a rhythm they've practiced over and over. She pulls his mouth on to hers and within minutes they're coming together, gasping each other's name while clinging tightly to one another.

He doesn't know how long they stay in his room, arms and legs entwined. "We should go back to the party." She strokes his hair while he buries his face in her breasts. "People are probably looking for you." She sighs when he drops slow kisses on her softening nipples and then plants her own slow kiss on his damp forehead.

Reluctantly, he gets up and starts pulling on his clothes. He watches her brush the wrinkles out of her dress and then slide it over her head. Frowning, he pulls her underwear out of his pocket. "Hey, you need to put this on." He pushes her into a sitting position and then slowly puts her panties on her, one leg at a time and then pulling up; smirking as she squeals when his fingers brush her clit. "I'd go crazy seeing you around other guys knowing you didn't have any underwear on. But don't worry, babe." He covers her mouth in a brief, yet scorching kiss. "I promise I'll take them off again real soon."

* * *

><p>He'd never really cared before about final exams; never really gave a shit about his grades. He knows that teachers wouldn't flunk him because they didn't want him back in their classes the next year. But when it comes to school and grades, Tara is all business. Always has been.<p>

Three weeks before finals she starts studying, and if he wants to spend time with her – which he always does – he has to study, too. Opie's amused and Gemma's incredulous, especially when she sees Tara quizzing him at the garage.

The one test he does give a shit about is for his English class. It's the only class he attends regularly - for obvious reasons - and the only class he cares about, not only so he can qualify for another advanced English class with Tara next year, but also because he's actually interested in the books.

Two days before the English final, she devotes herself to help him study. While he and Opie work on an old Dyna, she perches on a workbench, her nose buried in her notebook. "Which of Ernest Hemingway's novels is set during the Spanish Civil War?" She peers at him from around the book, smiling. "That's an easy question, Teller."

"That's an easy answer, Babe," he counters. "For Whom the Bells Tolls." He stops working and looks up at her. Hair in a high ponytail and wearing his flannel shirt draped over a blue tank top and jeans, she's both adorable and sexy as hell. He can't resist and walks over to her, pressing a lingering kiss on those impossibly lush pink lips.

"Another macho action novel. This class was right up your alley, Baby." She wraps her arms around him. He steps between her parted thighs and pulls her close. "I loved that book." He nuzzles her neck. "Nothing like a little revolution to get the blood pumping."

"Disillusionment with one's cause, self-sacrifice." She strokes his hair. "What's not to love?"

"I love you," he palms her ass and crushes her mouth to his.

"Jesus Christ, you two need to knock it off before you embarrass Opie," his mother's caustic voice effectively pours cold water over them.

Tara pulls away from him, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. But he doesn't let her go; that blush just turns him on even more. "We're just studying, mom. Leave us alone." He doesn't have to turn around to know that Opie's hiding a grin and Gemma's gritting her teeth. He keeps his gaze focused on Tara until she slowly starts to smile. "I love you, too, Baby." She grabs his face and kisses him senseless.

"Romeo and Juliet," he hears Opie explain to Gemma. "Guess it's an oral exam."

* * *

><p>Jax gets patched-in to SAMCRO a few months after his seventeenth birthday, after eighteen months as a Prospect. He could have patched-in six months earlier, but he wanted to wait for Opie. In his mind and heart, they're real brothers, and he wanted them to advance together. After all, one day, they'll be running the Club together.<p>

There's a huge party at the Club to celebrate both Jax and Opie; all the charters and nomads come in from all over to join in the revelry. Drunk and high on whiskey, weed and life in general, Jax is jubilant as he accepts all the congratulations, hugs and back pounding from Gemma, Clay, Piney and all his Brothers from up and down the coast. The only person missing is Tara, and he feels her absence keenly. He knows she just started a special program for gifted students to certain shadow doctors at St. Thomas, but surely she wouldn't miss this night, knowing how important it is to him and to Opie. She'll be here, he tells Opie and himself, for the hundredth time.

It's nearly eleven, and now he's drunk, high and pissed. Where the fuck is she? He's sitting on the picnic table bench with Opie smoking yet another joint when a pretty blonde croweater he hadn't seen before straddles his lap. Before he could say or do anything, she pulls the bud from his lips, takes a drag and then sinks her tongue into his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Opie raise his brows in surprise; it's the first time he's had any physical contact with a croweater or any woman since Tara claimed his heart and his dick nearly two years ago. It's either the jarring strangeness of another woman on his lap or all the weed he smoked tonight or both that has him feeling strangely lethargic, passive when she starts grinding against him.

"Oh shit, dude. Stop…" Opie's warning came way too late.

"You fucking son of a bitch!"

All of the sudden, the blonde is pulled off of him forcefully and thrown to the ground. As if in slow motion, he watches the croweater launch herself at her attacker only to get knocked unconscious by a swift and mean right hook. It's enough to shake him out of his stupor; he jumps up to chase after his obviously furious girlfriend, who's charging out the Teller Morrow gate as fast as those long legs could carry her. "Tara, wait!" He scrambles after her, grabbing her arm. She tries to shake off his grip. "Let go of me," she screams at him. Angry tears start to spill from her eyes; he's absolutely gutted by the sight of her crying and drops her arm. "Babe, please, let me explain."

"Just stay away from me!" He watches helplessly as she swipes at her tears with the backs of her hands. "Just stay away…" Her voice breaks, and she runs off leaving him to stare after her, his heart dropping to his feet.

Suddenly, he hears the rumble of a Harley and sees Piney Winston stop in front of him. "Kid, sometimes you are dumber than shit." The old man shakes his head in disgust and drives off after Tara.

Jax lasts exactly fifteen more minutes at his own party before deciding that he couldn't stand being there anymore, couldn't deal with this aching need for Tara. He had to mend this rift with her before it split them apart for good and fucking kills him in the process. "I'm taking off," he tells Opie. "Have fun for the both of us."

"Good luck, Bro." Opie knows exactly where he's headed. "I think you may need it."

Parking his Harley in the Winston driveway, he shoots a silent thank you to the fates that Frank Knowles' Cutlass isn't in the driveway. It's actually still too early for Tara's dad to be home from the bars, but given the shitty turn to Jax's night, he wouldn't be surprised if the asshole caught him trying to break into his daughter's room and have him thrown in jail.

Pulling himself through her window, he spots her immediately. She's changed into the tank top and pajama bottoms that she always wears to sleep. But instead of curled up inside her covers, she's sitting on her perfectly made bed, her arms and head resting on her folded knees while her small body shakes with sobs.

Crossing over to her, he rubs her shoulders and neck while pressing kisses to the top of her head. "Babe, please stop. I'm sorry. It's not what you think…" Watching her cry is killing him, but he doesn't know what to say or do to make her stop. He gathers her into his arms, surprised and thankful that she doesn't resist, "Tara, look at me, please…"

"I hurt that girl." Her voice is muffled against her arms, but he could hear her sorrow, her guilt. She raises her head and just eviscerates him with those heartbreaking green eyes, "Jax, when my dad hits me, at least he's drunk and doesn't know what he's doing. But I wasn't drunk, and I just hit her, made her bleed. Shit, she was knocked her out cold. What does that make me?"

He hugs her tighter then pulls away to stare into her face. "Listen to me, Tara. This is my fault, I let the situation get out of control. Nothing really happened with her, but I should've pushed her away before it went that far. This is not on you, at all. I'm so sorry, babe." He smooths a stray lock of hair from her face, strokes her soft cheek then plants a slow kiss on her lips. "I love you, Tara. I've never loved anyone in my life more than I love you."

She gives him a sad smile. "No one's ever loved me, except you. Maybe that's why I went a little crazy; I don't want to lose that." She burrows her head into his chest as he rests his chin on her head, pulling her even tighter against him. "You'll never lose me, Babe. I will love you until the day I die."


	5. FIND THE THINGS THAT LOVE YOU

**Chapter 4: FIND THE THINGS THAT LOVE YOU**

"_We're looking for Jax Teller."_

_Patterson looks over to the nurse's station as a half dozen or so leather-clad SAMCRO bikers swamp the small hospital receiving area. She recognizes the speaker as Robert Munson, the new SAMCRO President; apparently he'd been selected to take over the MC when Teller stepped down and turned himself in to save Tara. Munson looks as if he's aged ten years in one night; they all do, she realizes after a quick scan of the group. Out of courtesy, Cane had gone to the ice cream shop last night and informed the bikers there of Tara's death and Jax's arrest. According to Cane, the men had taken both pieces of news very hard._

_Cane had also told her that Munson and a few others had shown up at the sheriff's office early this morning demanding to see Teller. But Teller had been in no condition to see anyone. And from what she's seen for herself and heard from the doctor, he wouldn't be for some time._

* * *

><p>Something she said last night gnaws at him. At the time he'd been so desperate to convince her to forgive his stupidity that he missed it. But now that he's thinking clearly, it's all he can think about…<p>

"_When my dad hits me…" _

Frank Knowles is a mean son of a bitch. Some of the vicious barbs and cruel taunts that the man's hurled at his only child could make even the most hardened stoic wince in shock. Jax's lost track of all the times over the years that he's nearly snapped and killed the man with his bare hands. But Tara's made him promise that neither he nor anyone else he knew (read: SAMCRO) would ever confront or touch her father, regardless of the abuse the man leveled at her. If he ever broke that promise, she'd end it with him - no matter how much it would hurt her to do so. And since Jax would do anything to keep her, he'd reluctantly agreed. But he'd never understand the protectiveness she had for the man who hurt her so much.

"_He's my dad, Jax. My only family," she'd explained to him. "I don't want him hurt. But also, if anything happened to him, I'd wind up in the system somewhere in Stockton or Lodi or worse. Have to start all over in a new school, maybe more than one. And they'd separate us for sure. I don't want to be apart from you, Baby - not even for a minute."_

The fear of losing her stills his violent impulses towards her old man; that and telling himself that at least the abuse isn't physical. Since the night that Frank got his ass stomped by Piney for beating his twelve-year-old daughter senseless, he's not laid a hand on her. Or so Tara's led them all to believe. Now he's not so sure, and it's tearing at him.

"Morning…" She's awake and snuggling closer to him. Feeling her smile against his chest, he's overwhelmed by love, affection - and relief. Shit, he dodged a bullet last night. What if she hadn't forgiven him? He'll never forget the panic that tore through his insides when she ran from him, those anxiety-laced minutes it took to get to her house. He'd been ready to get on his knees and beg if that's what it took to get back with her.

"Morning, babe. You sleep ok?" He pulls her even closer to him and kisses her forehead. Actually they hadn't slept much; hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other all night. As if nothing could break them apart as long as he's inside her, their bodies fusing together tightly. "Tara, last night, you said…"

She drags her thumb across his nipple – once, twice – then looks up at him with drowsy green eyes. Jax loses his train of thought as his morning erection jolts into overdrive; his cock swelling, growing brick hard. Fuck it; they can talk about this later, he tells himself as he cups her bare breasts, sucking on those pink nipples until both buds are stiff and she's moaning, spearing her fingers through his hair, tangling her legs with his. Sooner or later he'll find out the truth about her dad, and if his suspicions are confirmed, there'll be hell to pay.

* * *

><p>All Jax's life he's been surrounded by people who've loved him, cared about him, counseled him - family, friends, the Sons. He's never known life without love, loyalty or the bonds of friendship and brotherhood. Those things are as common and essential to him as air and water.<p>

So Tara's relatively solitary life has always been somewhat of a mystery to him. When they were kids, he could never understand why she'd choose to spend so much time alone. It's not because she's shy; hell, far from it – he'd never met a more forthright person not named Gemma Teller. And it's not because people don't like her; she's always gotten along with most of the kids at school, and he knows from infuriating first-hand experience that she could have any guy eating out of her hand. She's just never let people get close to her; he's pretty sure he can count the number of friends she has on one hand - two of them being him and Opie. It's the third one that makes him crazy.

Jax can't remember a time when he didn't despise David Hale - that irritating, shit-don't-stink, smug little prick. He knows that the feeling's mutual, that Hale has equally unflattering things to say about him. He just never gave a shit as long as Hale stayed far away. But for some reason he could never figure out, Tara's always liked Hale. When they were kids, he and Opie had razzed her about her friendship with that tool because they knew that Hale had such a crush on her, but it hadn't really bothered him. Until now.

"I don't know how you can stand that guy." Jax brings it up one day at school after listening to her and Hale make plans to study together that afternoon; apparently Tara's tutoring the dumb prick in just about every class. He grits his teeth and tugs her away, but not before she beams Hale a smile that Jax doesn't like her using on anyone that's not him.

"What's not to like?" She shrugs, leaning into him as he tightens his arm around her shoulders. "He's a really nice guy." There's something she's not telling him; he can feel it, and it pisses him off and scares him at the same time. Insecurity isn't something he's used to feeling, but he's never cared this much before. He doesn't like the idea that Hale might know something about Tara that she's never shared with him. Doesn't like the thought that there might be some bond between them.

"Then lucky for me that you like the bad boys." He hauls her into a hot, rather desperate kiss just as they reach her class. But as if sensing his upset, she pulls away and searches his face. "Something the matter?" she asks, soothing the lines furrowing his brow.

Before he can respond, she surprises him by taking his hand and dragging him outside, not stopping until they reach the bleachers. It's cold outside so the field's deserted with gym classes moved inside for the winter. Stepping up a couple of rows, she sits down and reaches for him.

"Wow, Knowles, you're turning into a bad influence, making me skip class like this," he teases, wrapping his arms around her. Feeling her shiver, he whips off his sweatshirt and tugs it over her head then helps her adjust the big sleeves. He tries not to laugh because she looks like a little kid with her messy ponytail and over-sized sweatshirt. That thought dies instantly when she grabs his face and melts his brain with a scorching kiss.

Ending the kiss, she pulls away, leaving him slightly dazed. "I love you, you know." She stares into his eyes. "Hale's a good friend. I don't have many, so I'd really hate to give up the ones I have."

He feels like a total asshole. "I know Tara. But everyone knows that guy has a thing for you."

"Did you not hear what I just said?" She shakes her head in exasperation and pokes him in the chest. "I love you. You, Jackson Teller. Not him. Not anyone else. You. Do you understand that, or do I need to diagram it out for you in a Harley manual?"

Smiling, he gathers her against him and kisses the top of her head. "I got it, Babe. I love you, too. But it's like you have this connection to him, and…" he breaks off not wanting to sound like a needy, insecure douche.

She says nothing for a few long seconds, staring at the empty football field, before turning to him. "Right after my mom's funeral, my dad disappeared for over a week. I didn't know where he went or if he'd be coming back. It was ok at first, I just went to school as usual. But then we ran out of food, and dad hadn't left me any money. I sat next to Hale in class so he noticed right away when I'd skip out on lunch to go to the library. He started bringing extra lunches and cans of spaghetti-o's the next day. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. So for a while, I thought that he and Tommy were the only people who cared that I was alive." She smiles sadly at the memory. "I know you and Hale don't like each other so I'm not expecting you guys to become friends. But he's my friend, and all I'm asking is that you accept that and try not to be a complete asshole to him. Okay?"

Jax nods and feels his eyes burn as she presses her forehead against his. His mind instantly flashes back to remember nine-year-old Tara after her mom died. She'd look so lost and alone at the funeral. But back then, he and Opie spent lunch periods and any free time they had either talking about their future Harleys or coming up with pranks and schemes to torture their long-suffering teachers. In his youthful self-centeredness, it never occurred to him that Tara may have needed a friend during her dark days – like she'd been there for him, years later, when Tommy and JT had died.

No, he'll never like Hale; he and the self-righteous prick live too far on opposite sides of everything for that to ever happen. But now that he knows that Hale was there when Tara really needed someone, his enmity for the guy drops a few degrees. But Tara has him now, and he intends to be the one to look out for her - always.

"Hey, I got a great idea, let's skip out on the rest of the day," he suggests, nuzzling her neck. "We can go back to your place. And study." He squeezes her thigh.

"Not a chance, Teller." She stands up and holds out her hand for him to take. "We got English next. Time for Hamlet."

He grabs her hand and lets her lead him back into the school, grumbling all the way, "Fuck Hamlet. I hate that shit."

* * *

><p>On Tara's seventeenth birthday, Jax asks her for a gift.<p>

He takes her to dinner and then to the Clubhouse for celebratory drinks with Opie and the guys. He's happy with the easy camaraderie that's grown between her and some of his Brothers – noting how often she gravitates to Chibs, fascinated by his life as a former army medic. It's a sign to him that she's blending into his MC world, and he's more than ready to take the next step.

"So Tara, how 'bout you and me headin' into Lodi tomorrow night to shoot some stick?" Tig sidles next to Tara, inserting himself between her and a startled Jax. He can't possibly be hearing this right, Jax tells himself while glaring daggers at Tig's back. Was this douchebag actually hitting on his girlfriend in front of his face? Jax shoots an incredulous look at Opie, whose eyebrows have shot up to his hairline.

"Dude, you've got to be fucking kidding me." Recovering from his temporary shock, Jax reaches around Tig and pulls Tara to his side. "She's not available," he scowls at Tig. "Ever."

"Relax, Kid." Tig raises up his hands in surrender. "All I'm thinking is that we put Miss Tara's pool hustling talents to good use. Make some easy cash."

"Forget it," Jax snaps then looks at Tara for confirmation (and mentally hears Opie making whipping noises). When she smiles up at him in agreement, he shoots Tig the finger.

"You don't need to worry about Tig making moves on your girl," Clay tells them, handing out beers. "You're not exactly his type, sweetheart," he lets Tara know. "Not Mexican, for starters."

"Or dead and frozen," Bobby adds helpfully.

"Or four-legged," Chibs pretends to hump Otto, whose down on all fours pretending to be a cow or sheep or something.

But as much as he likes watching his Brothers accept his girl, he can only share her for so long. Grabbing her hand, he leads them to a dark, quiet corner away from the revelry. Relaxing in a chair, he tugs her on to his lap and wraps his hands around the sides of neck before fusing his mouth to hers.

After a few long, hot minutes, they come up for air. She kisses his forehead while he gazes at her, trying to remember the words he'd been practicing for days.

"This is so beautiful, Baby. I really love it." She touches the jade pendant that that he gave her during dinner, while her other fingers sift through his hair.

"Yeah?" He grins up at her, his hands slipping under her sweater to caress the soft skin on her back. "How about you thanking me properly then?"

She strokes the stubble on his chin. "Hmmm. What did you have in mind?" He nearly loses his train of thought as she rubs her breasts against him.

"I'm SAMCRO now, Babe." It comes out in a near gasp as she starts planting wet kisses on his neck. "And I want you to be my Old Lady." Gasping escalates into a full moan as she sucks his skin into her mouth. He loves, absolutely loves, when she marks him as her territory.

"What does that mean?" She straightens and faces him. "How would that change anything?"

Momentarily dumbstruck by the hypnotic force of those green eyes, it takes him a few seconds to respond. "It means you're mine, Babe. It means a deeper commitment for both of us - because in the eyes of the Club, you'll belong to me." He stares up at her, feeling his heart pound as he starts to hold his breath…

"Oh, Baby." She gives him a brilliant smile. "I'll always belong to you." She clasps his face in her hands, lowers her mouth to give him a lingering kiss and then presses her forehead to his. "I'd be honored to be your Old Lady, Jax. What do you need me to do?"

An hour later, she's straddling a chair while SAMCRO's favorite tattoo artist inks proof of Jax's possession on her lower back. Despite all of the whiskey he and the guys made her drink to minimize the pain, he knows she's hurting. A small part of him wants to pull her away as it tears him up to see her in any kind of pain. But the rest of him burns with a possessive joy. He'd staked his claim on her over a year ago, but now there'll be permanent evidence for anyone and everyone to see that Tara Knowles belongs to him, with him, forever.

Seated in a chair next to her, he grips both of her hands in his and leans down to kiss her tear-streaked face. "Hang in there, Babe. It's almost done." He releases one hand to touch her cheek. "I love you, Tara. More than anything."

It doesn't take much to convince her to skip school the next day, and when they hear Frank Knowles leave for work, Jax gets up to make them breakfast. But they're back in her bedroom soon enough. Since she'd pretty much passed out the minute he got her into bed last night, he has big plans for the day. Smiling wickedly, he slides her full length mirror closer to the bed and then pulls her to stand in front of him.

"What are you doing, Jax? Oh…" He yanks her tank top over her head, leaving her bare breasted in front of the mirror. He takes a moment to admire the sight before reaching up to cup one breast, rubbing her hardening nipple between his fingers. He looks down her back at her new tattoo, and the intensity of his desire for her ratchets up another thousand degrees.

He turns his attention back to the mirror, meeting her hot green gaze. Filling his hands with her breasts, he plucks her nipples again and again before slipping a hand underneath her pajama bottoms to rub her wet lips and clit. She rears her head back, gasping his name, but not once breaking their heated eye contact. Never one to be sexually passive, Tara reaches behind her to massage his balls through his boxers – stroking and squeezing until he groans and wrenches away, not wanting to come in her hand. He spins her around so he can plunder her mouth while relishing the feel of her soft breasts and stiff nipples rubbing against his chest.

He whips off her pajama bottoms and his boxers then positions her on the bed so that she's on her stomach, bent over the edge. He rifles through her night stand for the condoms that he's stashed and covers himself quickly. Leaning over her, he lifts her hair so he can nibble on her neck. "Watch, Babe," he whispers in her ear, gently tilting her head towards the mirror. "See how fucking good we are together." Then he lifts her hips and plunges into her from behind.

She screams his name, her inner muscles squeezing his cock as she meets him thrust for thrust. As he pounds into her, he stares hard at his mark on her lower back – the brightly colored crow standing out in relief against her pale skin, proof of his possession, proof of her love for him – and his balls tighten, ready to burst. He sucks the skin on the back of her neck, presses his fingers hard against her clit and then feels her orgasm explode within her. Pumping furiously, his heated gaze holds her desire-darkened one in the mirror as he starts to spasm, shouts her name and erupts inside of her.

They spend the rest of the day fucking in front of the mirror – his eyes glued to her tattoo as she rides him, over and over again. That night he takes her to the Clubhouse and fucks her in the apartment. She's his Old Lady now, branded with his crow. She belongs there. With him. Slowly, reverently his fingers trace his mark on her back while she sleeps tucked against him. "You're mine, Tara. Mine."

* * *

><p>"So Tara, what're you doin' tomorrow night?" Opie asks casually. The three of them are lying on the ground in the Winston's backyard passing around a joint from Opie's stash.<p>

"Really?" Jax turns to frown at his best friend while tightening his arm around Tara, who's nestled against him. "What is it with you and Tig? Asking my Old Lady out on a date in front of my face?"

"It's not like that, Bro. I'd assume you'd come with her since you're pretty much Siamese Twins. I need a favor, and I'm asking her 'cause you got no choice."

"Sure, Opie, what do you need?" Tara peers at him over Jax's chest.

"There's a school play tomorrow night, and I just think it would be fun for us to go." Opie shifts nervously, taking a hit off the joint, as Jax and Tara stare at him in open-mouth shock.

"Seriously?" Jax starts to laugh. Frowning, Tara swats his shoulder, then smiles at Opie. "We'd love to go. What's the play?"

Opie looks uncomfortable now. "My Fair Lady." He takes another hit while Tara blinks at him and Jax laughs harder.

But Tara Knowles isn't the smartest girl in school for no reason. "Who is she?" She sits up and grins broadly at Opie. Immediately missing her warmth, Jax scrambles to a sitting position so he can pull her close again. "You got a new chick?" he raises his eyebrows.

"What makes you think this is about a girl?" Opie huffs looking at everything in the backyard, except the two people staring bemusedly at him.

"Maybe it's all those times we had to stop for frozen yoghurt at TCBY," she teases. "And you don't even like frozen yoghurt. I think her name was Darlene?"

"Charlene," Jax corrects. "And then there was that chick who worked at the movie theatre. I never ate so much popcorn in my life. But I guess that's not as bad as when he liked the chick from the…"

"Donna, her name's Donna." Opie snaps at them. "She's the stage manager, and I may have mentioned to her that I'd try to catch the show."

"You 'may have mentioned it'…" Jax sighs and rubs his forehead, not even remotely interested in watching a school play, much less a fruity musical. "How about we slip in at the end so you can meet her back stage?"

"No, Jax." Tara flashes Opie a knowing smile. "He needs to know what happens during the show so he can talk to her about it afterwards." When Opie nods gratefully, she brushes Jax's hair out of his eyes. "I think it could be fun; something different." Then she leans in to whisper in his ear. "And I can always make it up to you later."

"We're in." Jax grins happily and slaps Opie on the back. Opie rolls his eyes, "Thanks."

* * *

><p>After getting patched-in, Jax quickly realizes his school days are numbered. The work that Clay gives him to do for the Club is too important to interrupt or put on hold while he skips off to class. The only thing that draws him back is Tara; they only have the one English class together so he does his best to show up, even though he doesn't have much time to read or write papers anymore. And of course there's lunch time. If he's not already at school or on a job for The Club, he'll grab a car from TM and drive over to school to pick Tara up for lunch. Well about ten minutes for lunch; the rest of the time to prove how much he's missed her since that morning and tide himself over until it's time to crawl through her window later that night.<p>

He'd just pulled down a lacy bra strap and latched his mouth on to her breast when they hear the loud rapping on the window. Tara scrambles to fix her blouse while Jax groans out loud when he gets a look at the man outside the car. Deputy Police Chief Luke Baxter, Prick Extraordinare. He remembers that Unser is at some cop convention in Sacramento, so this shithead's in charge while he's gone.

"What's the problem, officer?" He rolls down the window, trying his best to look innocent. A lost cause, since he's more than a little well-known to Charming PD.

"I need both of you to step out of the car." Baxter tells them, not even bothering to ask for license and registration. Jax thinks about arguing, but Tara grabs his arm and shoots him a warning look before getting out of the passenger's side.

He climbs out of the driver's side and frowns immediately at the assessing look that the prick is giving her. "You're Frank Knowles' kid, aren't you?" Jax's blood boils as the asshole looks her up and down; the leer discomfiting her enough to cross her arms across her chest.

"What do you want?" Done with niceties, Jax steps in front of Tara, shielding her from this insufferable ass.

Baxter turns those beady eyes on him and smirks, "You're in possession of stolen property, Mr. Teller. I'm afraid we're gonna have to arrest you and Miss Knowles." For the first time, Jax sees the other cop – Jeff Walter, who looks at him apologetically as he approaches them with cuffs.

"What stolen property?" Jax asks in disbelief. "This car belongs to Teller Morrow, meaning it belongs to me." But he doesn't resist when Walter puts the cuffs on him and guides him into the back of the cop car next to Tara.

The shithead ignores him and continues driving toward the station. At the station, Walter processes them – a sadly familiar routine given their two recent arrests for being drunk and disorderly. Both times they'd been partying at the club, knocking back shots of whiskey and tequila in between hits of weed. The first time, Unser picked them at the park after irate calls about drunk kids setting off fireworks; the second time in the movie theatre parking lot after Jax's screaming match with the box office attendant, who didn't want to sell tickets to two loud and obviously drunk teenagers. And both times Unser had let them go once Gemma arrived to get them.

But Jax realizes almost immediately that this arrest isn't going to be as routine as the others. First, Baxter puts them in separate cells; Unser had always let them stay together. Tara hadn't take the arrests well, and Jax had needed the physical contact to soothe her battered conscience. Second, instead of Gemma, it's Frank Knowles who walks through the door followed by Baxter.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" Tara jumps up; her usual pale complexion even whiter with shock and fear. She looks at Jax in panic, willing him not to say or do anything to incite her volatile parent.

"What am I doing here?" Frank Knowles barks a short laugh. "I got a call at work that my kid's been arrested for having sex on a public street, inside a stolen car."

Jax stands, his fingers turning white as he grips the bars of his cell. He watches with growing anxiety as Baxter opens Tara's cell door, serving her up to her visibly furious father.

"Dad, it's not what you think…" She places a hand on his arm, trying to placate a man who's had nothing but contempt for her.

But Knowles isn't interested in explanations and flings off her hand. "You've always been a stupid bitch," he sneers at her. "What would your mother think if she saw you now? Spreading your legs in public? You whore. You pathetic whore..." And as if all his pent-up anger explodes, he back-hands Tara with a force that sends her sprawling to the ground, striking her head on the cement floor.

"Tara!" Jax screams. He struggles violently against the bars of his cell, as if the intensity of his rage could force them open. Realizing that the bars won't budge, he turns his wrath on Frank Knowles. "Listen to me, you fucking son-of-a-bitch. You'd better start running now, because I'm gonna hunt you down and kill you. Do you hear me, I'll kill you!"

"Jax, no!" Tara struggles to her feet and rushes to his cell. His fury surges when he sees the ugly purple bruise on her cheek, the blood on her lip. "Baby, you can't say those things here," she whispers franticly. "We don't want any more trouble." Then turning to face the other men, "He doesn't mean it. He's just upset." She looks pointedly at Baxter. "You can't charge him for just venting."

Knowles looks over at Jax as if noticing him for the first time. Apparently he'd been so intent on his seething anger for his daughter, that he didn't see her equally furious boyfriend in the next cell. Jax channels all of his rage and hate into a glare that he levels at the man. "You don't EVER touch her again," he warns in a voice that's calmer, but more menacing and lethal than his previous screaming threats. He knows his warning hits its mark as fear creeps into Knowles' eyes. Saying nothing, the man storms out the door.

Tara lingers in front of his cell for a moment, staring up at him with pain-filled eyes. "Jax, remember what you promised me. You can't hurt him. Please." She softly touches his fingers, still gripping the bars, then walks out after her dad.

After she leaves, Jax fumes at Baxter. "You asshole, how could you just stand there and let him beat her like that? Why didn't you arrest him? That's assault!"

Baxter just leans against the wall, smiling smugly. "The man's got a point. No one wants to find out his kid's a whore. And that's what you've done to his little girl, turned her into a dirty biker slut – and everybody knows it. She's an embarrassment to him - so whatever he needs to do to rein her in, well that's his call."

It takes every ounce of Jax's willpower not to unleash his rage on Baxter right then, as if sensing the man wants another reason to keep him in that cell. Instead, he shoots him an intense hate-filled glare that promises retaliation. No one hurts Tara or talks about her that way without paying a steep price. Tara won't let him touch the man who hurt her, but that promise doesn't extend to the fucking asshole who put this all in motion. Baxter will pay the price for Tara's pain, pay for talking shit about her like that. And Jax swears to himself that he'll collect that payment soon, and enjoy doing it.

The fucking asshole waits another hour before he calls Gemma to pick him up. The minute they get to the garage, he jumps on his Harley and heads straight for Tara's house, ignoring his mother's tirade about getting hauled in for stupid shit. He needs to see for himself that Tara's ok, that her dad had heeded his warning about not touching her again.

He parks his bike in the Knowles' driveway, not bothering with the pretense of using the Winston's as cover. Frank Knowles' Cutlass is nowhere in sight. Opening the front door with the key she'd given him, he finds her watching TV with a bag of frozen peas pressed to her abused cheek. Gathering her into his arms he holds her tight while she dissolves into tears. "I'm not a whore, Jax," her sobs muffled against his chest. "My mom wouldn't have thought I was a whore." Cursing Frank Knowles to hell, Jax rocks her. "No, Babe. You're not. Whores don't get married, and I'm gonna marry you one day, I promise."


	6. Choices That Will Change You Forever

**Chapter 5: ****Choices That Will Change You Forever**

"_I'm sorry, but I've already told you, Mr. Teller is in ICU; only immediate family are allowed to see him." _

_Despite the constant pleas, bribery attempts and threats of bodily harm, the doctor refuses to allow Teller's SAMCRO family to see him or receive any medical updates. Apparently being patched Brothers in the MC doesn't exactly fit the hospital's definition of "immediate family." _

_Because of the pending criminal investigation, the doctor had briefed Patterson about Teller's condition and early prognosis. Armed with that news, she approaches the bikers in the waiting room. She won't share all she knows with them - preferring to dangle bits of information in order to gauge their reactions. After all, there's a double murder to solve so no one escapes suspicion. But the effort proves largely futile as the men have nothing to offer but worry and grief._

"_Where's my son? What's happened to my son?" Gemma Teller Morrow barrels through the hospital door, frantic and wild-eyed. Cane shoots Patterson a grim look. The missing member of Jackson Teller's motley vigil has finally arrived._

* * *

><p>"Oh my god, what happened?" Tara rushes towards him as he climbs through her window. Her worried eyes scan him from head to toe, trying to gauge the severity of his injuries. "Did you crash your bike?"<p>

"I'm fine, Babe." He pulls her into his arms to reassure her but winces at the contact with his sore rib. She must've felt him flinch, backing away to avoid causing him more pain.

Taking his hand, she leads him to her bed and pushes him to sit on the edge. Standing between his thighs, she pulls off his cut and sweatshirt and frowns at the purple bruise on his side. Running a soft hand across the injured area, she probes carefully, assessing the damage. "Nothing seems broken, but you should still go to the hospital and get it x-rayed," she tells him. "I'll go with you, if you want."

"No, it's just a few bruises. Nothing to worry about." To prove his point, he molds his hands around her perfect ass, squeezing those perky cheeks through her pajama bottoms.

"None of that," she scolds, pulling away from him to fetch a red canvas bag from her closet. She zips it opens and starts pulling out bottles, gauze strips, cotton balls and swabs.

"What is all that stuff?" Jax asks warily. "And why do you have half a drug store in your closet?"

"When I was in that medical careers program at St. Thomas, they gave all of us these kits. Pretty cool, huh?"

Medical supplies? "Not really," he almost tells her but then clamps his mouth shut when he sees how happy handling all that stuff makes her. Instead, he pulls her to stand between his legs again. "So, you wanna play doctor?" He nuzzles her neck and gives her ass another squeeze. "I can be your patient. Which of my body parts do you want to examine first?"

Rolling her eyes, she reaches over to grab one of the bottles and a gauze strip. She pours a tiny bit of the liquid into the gauze then brushes it against the cut near his eye.

"Jesus Christ, Tara!" It feels like she just poured burning hot salt into the wound. "What the holy fuck is that shit?"

"It's ok, Baby." She soothes him like he's five years old. "Need to clean these cuts so they don't get infected or leave scars. You know how much I love this gorgeous face." She pats his cheek and then proceeds to torture him with the bottle of liquid hell.

It's not until she notices his torn knuckles that the worry creeps back into her face. Holding up his injured hand, she stares hard at the broken skin. "What happened, Jax? You got into a fight, didn't you?" Looking up, she snares him with those penetrating eyes. "Tell me."

"It's not a big deal, Tara. I had a beef with this guy, and we had it out. Not my first fight, Babe. You know that."

She doesn't respond right away, choosing to focus on treating his knuckles. He grits his teeth as she dabs that burning shit on his ripped flesh. "I know," she finally replies, carefully bandaging his hand. There's a sad note to her voice as she softly strokes the skin right above the bandage. "I just hate seeing you get hurt."

He hauls her into his arms, fuck the pain in his side. "I know, Babe. I feel the same way." He softly traces the fading bruise on her cheek then buries his face in her silky hair. God, how he loves her. It amazes him that you could love someone so completely, so intensely and then still feel it continue to grow – deeper, stronger.

Fingering the waistband of her pajama bottoms, Jax leans in and runs his tongue along the shell of her ear. He feels her shiver in response and flips them so she's lying on the bed as he looms above her. Meeting her desire darkened gaze, he grins wickedly. "Now I believe it's my turn to be the doctor."

The vigorous, rest-of-the-night game of doctor and patient distracts her from the questionable nature of his injuries, but Jax's reprieve lasts only until the next night when they meet up with Opie and his new girlfriend for dinner.

"Wow, did you hear the news about Deputy Chief Baxter?" Donna Lerner may be a relatively new arrival to Charming, but she always seems dialed into the town's latest gossip. And since showing up backstage after Charming High's rendition of "My Fair Lady," Opie's been all about the tiny brunette. As a result, Jax's never felt more in-the-know about his hometown's citizens; although he's more than a little familiar with this particular piece of news. "My parents were shocked. They said the guy's really nice so they can't believe that someone could do this to him."

"What happened?" Tara sounds casual, but Jax feels her shudder at the memory of their less-than-nice encounter with the man. He tightens his hand on her thigh in a reassuring squeeze.

"Somebody beat him up real bad last night - broke his jaw and a bunch of other bones. They say he may have to quit the PD because he probably won't walk normal again." Apparently it's Donna's turn to shudder, as if considering the crazed violence it would take to turn a healthy man into a near cripple.

"News to me." Opie wolfs down the rest of his burger then turns to face his girlfriend. "How'd you hear this stuff? Your folks moonlighting for the CIA or The National Inquirer?"

"My aunt manages the gift shop at St. Thomas," Donna informs them. "She overheard one of the doctors talking to Chief Unser about it this morning."

"Guess there's no such thing as patient-gift shop manager confidentiality," Jax smirks at her. "News to me, too. I'm surprised that none of the guys said anything about this at the garage today." He guzzles down his fries and then Tara's, grateful when the music playing from the jukebox triggers his and Opie's longstanding Nirvana vs. Pearl Jam debate.

No one's surprised when Tara goes quiet during dinner; her reticence is as much a part of her as dark brown hair and mossy green eyes. But Jax can sense that powerful brain at work, processing new and old information, running through multiple hypotheses until settling on a single (and usually dead-on) conclusion.

She begs off dessert and the party at the Club they'd planned to attend, claiming a headache that's evidenced by her silence and barely touched dinner. She tells him that he should go ahead with Opie and Donna, but there's no way he's leaving her alone with her suspicions. Instead, he takes her home, neither of them speaking as she leads him through the empty house to her bedroom.

Once inside her room, she whirls around and grabs his bandaged hand. "Tell me you didn't have anything to do with hurting that man." There's a desperate note to her voice, as if grasping for reasons not to believe what her analytical brain tells her must be true.

He pulls his hand out of hers then holds them both up, palms facing her. "Tara, I swear, these hands had nothing to do with breaking that man's bones." He can see how badly she wants this to be true, but the logical part of her remains unconvinced. "Fuck it, Tara. Yeah, I admit that I'm glad someone beat the shit out of that asshole. The way he treated you, sic'd your dad on you and then the shit he said…" He shakes his head as the fury comes back. "But you can ask Opie and Piney; I was with them last night until I came here."

Her green gaze locks with his for a moment before she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Jax." Heart pounding in relief, he clings to her. "It's alright, Babe. You got nothing to be sorry about."

Wide awake, he stares at the ceiling while she sleeps nestled against him. Dodged another bullet, although nothing he'd told her was actually a lie. _"You can't lie to her face, Kid." _Piney had informed him matter-of-factly. "_She'll see that a mile away and kick your ass out the door."_ So Jax told her the truth; he hadn't used his hands to break any of Baxter's bones. Just not the whole truth; he'd used his fists to knock the guy to the ground, and then proceeded to kick the goddamn shit out of the motherfucker.

_Jax starts off methodically, going first for his legs so that Baxter can't run away – not that he'd have much chance with the Winstons standing guard; he stomps on the man's knees and shins over and over and over – until he hears the unmistakable sound of cracking and splintering bones. Once Baxter's disabled, Jax releases the fury he's been holding back for over a week as he's swamped with images of Tara from that day – degraded and humiliated when this son-of-a-bitch leered at her like some cheap piece of trash, scared out of her mind when her dad walked through the jail's door, bruised and bloody after that vicious backhand, dejected and in tears after hearing her own father brand her a "pathetic whore." He kicks in the asshole's ribs then stomps on an elbow. Then Jax's rage-soaked memory shifts to Baxter smugly leaning against the wall, doing nothing while Old Man Knowles beat his daughter in front of them, letting the bastard walk away scot-free, calling Tara a "dirty biker slut" right to Jax's face. His fury goes into over-drive and the force of his next kick shatters Baxter's jaw and most of his teeth. _

They dumped Baxter's unconscious body in the near-empty St. Thomas parking lot. After stopping at a payphone to make an anonymous call to the hospital about the injured man, they left the van they "borrowed" on the other side of town. "Remind me to never say anything bad about Tara. Ever." Opie had remarked, only half-jokingly, as they walked the few miles back to TM. "Yeah," Jax replied softly, "Anyone else might not be as lucky as this one."

* * *

><p>Jax and Opie drop out of school right before senior year; there's no point in starting any new classes given how little they'd shown up for any last year. Hell, he's been looking forward to dropping out since the first day of high school; falling hard for the smartest girl in school kept him in much longer than he'd ever thought possible.<p>

But now that Jax wears the Redwood Original patch on his cut, his love and loyalty to the Club seem to intensify with every church meeting, every run, every outlaw minute spent with his Brothers. But that level of commitment consumes much more of his time than ever before, soaking up all of his hours during day and even some nights when the Club needs him for an out-of-town run. Besides, the stuff he's learning now – about business, commerce, building relationships with other clubs, legal shit – beats the fuck out of anything he'd ever learn in a classroom.

Tara tells him she understands his decision, but he can sense her sadness - and not just because she'd miss the brief times they'd see each other between classes. For some reason, she's always seen some scholarly potential in him; that he could succeed, if not excel, if he just gave some kind of effort. Of course she's the only person in town to think so – his own mother and every teacher in the Charming school district included. He'd waited to tell her until after he'd filed the paperwork with the school, as if not trusting his own resolve matched up against her ability to convince him otherwise.

Securing the weekend off from Clay, he'd taken her on a weekend camping trip at their special spot near Mt. Walker. Since his sixteenth birthday, they've made a few trips here every summer; it's the perfect place for them to be completely alone – mostly to fuck each other senseless for extended periods of time - but also, when they're here together, it's like they're the only two people in the world.

"Think of it as less competition for class valedictorian," he teases, trying to lighten her mood but failing instantly as not even a ghost of a smile touches those pink lips. Sitting by the campfire, he hugs her closer to him, running his fingers through her soft hair. "Tara, I'm SAMCRO, my future's set. I don't need to waste time in classes learning shit I'll never use at TM or with the Club." He lifts her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Don't worry, Babe. I'll always be able to take care of you and all the kids we'll have some day. It'll be great, I promise."

She turns her head to look at him; apparently not sold on his re-assuring words, she looks even more troubled. "Jax, I know the garage is your legacy and how much you want to follow in JT's footsteps, but you just never seem all that excited about fixing cars. If you were, then you dropping out wouldn't bother me so much. I just wish you'd even consider trying something different - something that you love, something that makes you happy."

He's felt surges of guilt each time he's misled her about the true nature of what he and his Brothers do to earn for the Club and how little time he actually spends working in the garage now that he's earned his patch. Even though she's his Old Lady, he's still not sure how she'd react knowing any of the real shit about the Club, or worse, the shit he's done personally. Tara's not like Gemma or Luanne or any of the other Old Ladies who embrace, even thrill, in the less-than-legal aspects of the MC business; even a little knowledge could send her running, and he won't risk that for anything. One day, he knows he'll need to tell her the truth, but it's not going to be today.

"I love you, Tara." He brushes a lock of hair from her face and rests his forehead against hers. "You make me happy."

* * *

><p>After hours and hours riding hundreds of miles, Jax's never been so happy to see the sign welcoming them into Charming city limits. The run to Nevada lasted longer than planned - unforeseen complications in the form of a Mayan ambush added two more days to the trip. But in the end, it's a successful run – the package delivered so the Sons are flush, for now.<p>

Fuck, he's tired. His Brothers take the turn into TM and, for a split-second, he considers joining them and crashing at the Clubhouse for the night. He dismisses the thought almost instantly; he hasn't seen or talked to Tara in four days – the longest they've been out of contact in years. He'd never admit it to his Brothers (although he suspects they might know), but he hates the overnight runs - even a day apart from Tara, and he's ready to go off the rails. Not only does he fucking miss her, but whenever they're apart too long, he starts to feel off-center, lost.

He'd tried calling her yesterday and a couple of times today when they'd stopped for gas, but each time he got the answering machine and hung up without leaving a message. He didn't want to risk her dad hearing a message from him and give the son-of-a-bitch another reason to call her a whore; he still seethes when he thinks about that bastard - or anyone - thinking about her in those terms.

As usual, he parks his bike at the Winston's. The Cutlass isn't in the drive-way, but it's late so he opts to climb through her bedroom window instead of going through the front door. Her room's dark, but there's enough moonlight shining through the window for him to see that she's not in her bed. Frowning, he turns on her desk lamp, the light revealing her perfectly made bed and empty room. He opens the door, and walks down the hallway to the living room; the house is dark, silent. Where the hell is she at one in the morning? Part of him is sorely pissed that she's not here when he needs her so much; the rest of him worries, hating the idea of her being out somewhere this late at night without him. He's about to leave to go look for her when he notices the open patio door. Stepping outside, he sighs in relief; she's sitting on one of the deck chairs, smoking a joint, staring into the night.

"Babe? What are you doing out here?" He walks over, dropping a kiss to her forehead before sitting down on the chair next to her. She doesn't answer, doesn't look at him. He frowns at her silence and picks up her hand; it's cold so he wonders how long she'd been sitting out here. "Babe, I'm sorry I'm so late getting back. Just had some shit go down that no one expected, so we had a late start comin' back. But I promise, I'll make it up to you."

She finally looks at him, no expression on her face. "What would you make up to me?" she asks tonelessly. The hairs on the back of Jax's neck prickle; something's wrong. Facing him is the Tara that other people see - reserved, polite, distant. Not his loving, vibrant Tara, who leaps into his arms when they're re-united even after several hours apart. He scans his tired brain to think of what he might've done, might've forgotten. Coming up empty, he presses a kiss to her fingers. "Anything you want, Babe. Name it."

She drills him with a hard stare, as if trying penetrate his brain, then looks away to continue staring into the night. A few long seconds pass before she coldly replies. "I graduated from high school today, Jax. Or you could say yesterday, since I'm guessing it's after midnight." She takes a hit of the joint before facing him again; the emptiness in her eyes slices through his insides, gutting him as effectively as any tears could've done. "I'm not sure how you could make that up since they probably won't re-do the ceremony, not even for SAMCRO."

Jax closes his eyes. Holy Fucking Shit. If it were physically possibly, he'd kick his own ass. How could he have forgotten something so important to her? Forgotten the glowing happiness on her face when he promised that he'd be there for her, that he wouldn't miss hearing her valedictory speech for anything? Forgotten that he would've been the only one there for her, as any appearance by her dad would be deemed a major miracle?

"Oh shit, Tara. I'm so sorry. I lost track of the days…"

"Save it." She rises out of the chair, and for the first time he notices that she's wearing a new dress. A blue jeans girl to the bone, she only wears dresses on really special occasions. Goddamn, he's really blown this. His brain struggles to find something - anything - that he could say or do to fix this fucking mess he's made, but there doesn't seem to be any magic words or actions that could save him tonight. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Jax." It's definitely a dismissal, informing him that he's got no shot at spending this night – and possibly others - with her.

"Tara, wait." He grabs her shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down her bare arms as if trying to warm the cold skin and the coldness inside her. "Babe, I'm really sorry. Tell me what I can do to make up for this. Please."

She shakes her head. "Nothing." Then probably reading the desperation in his eyes, her face softens a fraction. "Look, it's late, we're both tired. You should go home and get some sleep. We can talk later." With that, she walks into her house and shuts the patio door. He considers climbing through her window to force the issue and convince her to forgive him, but he knows that could easily backfire. When Tara makes up her mind about something, it's no easy feat to change course – sometimes he thinks she could give stubborn lessons to both him and his mom. Cutting his losses, he jumps on his bike and heads home. Hopefully after a good night's sleep, he'll be able to think of some way out of this total fucking shithole he'd dug for himself.

But it's nearly two days before he gets to talk to Tara; Clay calls an emergency church session that leads to another overnight run – this time to Oakland to escort the latest shipment from the Irish. He'd wanted more than anything to climb through her window last night; knowing that she'd probably kick him out, he opted for another mostly sleepless night, this time at the Clubhouse. He'd planned to head over to her house early this morning – hoping she'd be too disoriented from sleep to still be pissed at him – but then had to ride out to Stockton with Bobby.

Riding through the TM gate, he spots her waiting for him, leaning against the used Jeep that she'd bought last summer after landing a part-time job at a doctor's office. Shit, she's an amazing sight for his sore fucking eyes. It takes all his self-control not to throw her over his shoulder, sprint to the apartment and not come out for a week.

Instead, he approaches carefully, wanting more than anything to grab her and hold tight, but mindful of his Brothers sitting at the picnic table. He'd hate for them to witness him getting clocked by that powerful right hook. "You still hate me?"

"I could never hate you, Jax." Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she glances over to where the guys are unabashedly watching them before directing her point blank stare at him. "I'm going away for a few days. My boss is speaking at a medical conference in San Jose and needs me to help him. I'll be home at the end of the week."

Stunned, he watches her turn and open the Jeep door. Then the enormity of what she'd said hits him with the force of a cement mixer. Grabbing her arm, he spins her around to face him. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Tara. We haven't seen each other for nearly a week, and now you're telling me that you're running off to some 'conference' with your boss. Your man boss. If this is some fucked-up way to try and punish me…"

"You self-centered asshole." She wrenches her arm from his grasp and shakes her head. "This doesn't have anything to do with you. This is about me - for a change. Not you, not the Club. But me trying to figure what I'm going to do with my life. And yes, Dr. Benton is a man - a happily married man whose been nothing but decent to me. Just because my dad and probably half this town thinks I'm a slut doesn't mean I'm gonna start fucking him when we get there."

"Goddamn it, Tara. You can't…" Obviously done listening to him, she jumps in the Jeep and takes off, nearly clipping him and then Lowell on the way out.

He doesn't know how long he stands there staring after her like some pathetic dumbfuck. But when he looks over to the picnic table, the guys are gone and Opie's walking towards him with an open bottle of Jack. "Don't worry about it, Bro." He hands Jax the bottle before lighting up two cigarettes and passing one over. "Tara's been crazy in love with you since first grade; she'll get over this. You guys will be fine"

He takes a swig of whiskey. "Really? Since first grade?" For the first time in days, he feels a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Yeah. She's been brain-damaged that long. But don't tell her I told you; I'll deny it and call you a lying motherfucker."

* * *

><p>"Jax, what are you doing here?" It had taken him and the new Prospect nearly two days of phone calls and faking sick symptoms at Dr. Benton's office to get the details about the conference, specifically the hotel where the attendees are staying. After paying the Prospect the promised bribe cash and swearing him to secrecy (Clay would kill if he knew Jax enlisted the guy to help fix his love life), he jumped on his bike and rode the two hours to San Jose. He forked over another hundred to an opportunistic bellboy to get her room number.<p>

"I miss you so much, Babe," he tells her simply, holding his breath. "I'm really sorry that I fucked up your graduation, sorry that I was such a dick the other day. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Please, Tara, I don't want to fight any more. Don't make me leave."

Grabbing his hand, she tugs him into her room and pulls his head down for a scorching kiss that he feels all the way down to his toes. After sliding his unzipped hoodie from his shoulders, she pulls the t-shirt over his head and runs her hands across his chest. "You're here just in time to join me for a bubble bath." She nibbles his earlobe while he rubs her shoulders through the fuzzy white bathrobe.

"A what?"

Smiling, she leads him into the bathroom where a pretty huge tub's already filled with bubbles. She presses a slow kiss to his lips before turning around and dropping the robe, knowing that he'd get a long look at her tattoo as well as the perfect ass that makes him fucking crazy.

Stepping into the tub, she turns to face him, giving him an eyeful of those gorgeous breasts before submerging to the neck in the bubble water. Glancing at his hands paused on the top button of his jeans, she senses his hesitation. "I won't tell anyone that the Biker Prince took a bubble bath, I promise." To entice him further, she cups her breasts, lifting the lush mounds above the bubbles and brushes her thumbs across the swollen pink nipples. "I missed you, too."

He tears off his jeans and boxers and practically dives into the tub. Hauling her against him, he devours her mouth while rubbing the warm foam against her nipples with his own fingers. Wrapping those long legs around his waist, he presses his thumb hard against her clit before thrusting his cock deep inside of her. Her hands squeeze his flexing ass, driving him to pump harder and harder, deeper and deeper until she screams with the force of her release. He's not far behind, crying out against her neck as her spasms clench his cock, milking him dry. Breathing hard, he buries his face in her damp hair. Shit, he's dodged another bullet. There's no way, no fucking way he'd ever be able to live without this, live without her.

"So how's the conference?" Nuzzling her neck, he wraps his arms around her as she reclines against him, wedged between his legs. Loving the feel of her warm foam-slick skin, he slides his hands up her thighs and across her stomach before cupping her breasts, massaging the plump undersides and watching the pink nipples peak through the bubbles.

"It's been really great." She trails her fingers up and down his arm. "I learned so much and met so many amazing people." As she peppers him with details about the past couple of days, there's a joyful excitement in her voice that he's never heard before. As happy as he is to see her this way, it scares him a little, too.

There's always been something exceptional about Tara – more than just the beautiful face, the gorgeous body, the remarkable brain. Anyone she lets close enough realizes right away that there's some undefined magic about her; something about her that grabs hold and doesn't let go. He's the latest in a string of guys who've crossed the line from attraction to obsession - Tommy, Hale, that douchebag quarterback she'd dated before him (he never told her, but Jax had to pound that guy a couple of times to make him go away). But the difference, Jax tells himself as he reaches down to stroke her crow tattoo, is that he and Tara are meant to be together. Nothing and no one can take her away from him.

* * *

><p>Some days on a job, he feels invincible, untouchable, legendary – nothing fucking beats the SAMCRO. Then there are the days, he wonders if they have enough brainpower among them to screw on a light bulb. The day the Sanwa sheriffs nail them for gun-running definitely fits into the latter category; pulled over for an expired registration, for fuck's sake.<p>

Sitting in the cell overnight, he listens to Bobby and Tig bicker back and forth as to who should take the fucking blame for landing them all in this shit show. The dumbfuck who picked up the van without noticing the expired tags or the dumbshit who crashed the original van they were supposed to use. Jax's lost count of the times he's been to jail, but getting convicted for smuggling guns could mean prison time, possibly a lot of it. He thinks about Tara; how the hell will he explain this to her? All this time, he's led her to believe that they made these out-of-town runs to visit other charters or attend motorcycle and car shows as part of TM's business. He thinks about being separated from her for months, maybe even years if he's convicted and feels sick inside. Fuck, surely Clay and the lawyers will come up with something to fix this mess; there's no way he could last that long without her.

It's another two days before they're finally released on bail, and he heads straight for her house. He's still not sure what he's going to say to her, but he's not going to avoid seeing her until he figures it out. Climbing through her window, he can tell right away that's something's wrong.

"Jax?" Before he can say anything, she flies into his arms, clasping him in an embrace so tight he can barely breathe. For a brief second he considers teasing her about being so happy to see him, until he realizes that she's trembling, sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

"Babe, what's wrong?" He tries to soothe her, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, kissing the top of her head. "Tell me. Did your old man hit you again?" He tries to pull away so he can assess any physical damage, but she clings to him tighter. "Tara, I can't keep standing by and let that son-of-a-bitch hurt you; it's killing me."

Loosening the stranglehold she has on his neck, she takes a long shaky breath before looking up to face him. He searches her face, looking for bruises, marks, anything to explain her distress. He wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and presses his forehead against hers. "Come on, Babe. Tell me what's wrong."

"I heard you and some of the guys got arrested, Jax - for smuggling guns. Guns, Jax. How can that be? It has to be some kind of mistake, right?" She grasps his arms; her desperate, tear-filled eyes pleading with his. "It's a mistake, right?"

"Tara…"

She backs away from him. "I so was worried because you were really late coming back. There's been such bad weather up north, I was afraid that you could've been in an accident. I went to the Club to see if anyone could tell me anything. Then I heard Gemma and Clay talking to the Rosens." Jax closes his eyes; fuck, he can only imagine the shit she overheard. Ben Rosen's been counseling the Club on legal matters since JT brought the MC to Charming, and now his son - fresh from law school - has joined the family firm. Apparently this gun-smuggling charge appears serious enough to warrant time from both lawyers.

"Mr. Rosen said that if you're convicted, you could go to prison. Oh my god." Fresh tears spill from her eyes as she clutches his cut. "Please, Jax. Please tell me this is all just some big mix-up. You're not involved with guns, right?"

Swallowing hard, he grips her upper arms and stares down into the face of the girl he loves more than life, the girl he's lied to for years. "Tara, we're gonna beat this. Rosen's the best lawyer in town. We won't be going to prison."

Jerking away from him, she shakes her head. "You're not denying it. Christ, I can't believe this." She walks across the room, apparently needing distance from him. "How long has SAMCRO been smuggling guns? How long have you been part of it?"

He's treading dangerous ground here. She may be his Old Lady, but he's had reasons for keeping her in the dark - mainly fear that she'd recoil from all the bad shit he's done and end it with him, but also because the Club frowns on Old Ladies knowing too much about the Sons' business, Gemma being the lone exception. Jax didn't want her anywhere near Clay's threat radar. But as those green eyes slice into him, he knows he's got to come clean; from the expression on her face it's clear that she won't accept anything less.

"We've been dealing guns for a while; I found out when I was a Prospect. I can't say much more except, yeah, there were guns in the van when we got arrested." Hating the distance between them, he crosses the room and clamps his hands on her shoulders. "Tara, I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what, Jax? Sorry that you've been breaking the law? Sorry that you got caught? Sorry that you've been lying to me all this time?" She closes her eyes. "Do you use these guns? Do you shoot people?"

"Babe, I can't talk about what I do for the Club." Jax feels her flinch and tightens his grip on her shoulders. "But I'm sorry that you found out the way you did. I should've told you a long time ago that we're more than just a bunch of mechanics. I was afraid you'd want to break up if you found out about the guns. I don't want to lose you." He drops his hands but keeps his gaze locked with hers, silently begging her to understand, to forgive him - yet again - for being a fucking idiot. "Do you want me to go?"

She stares hard at the patch on his cut and says nothing for several long seconds. "No," she whispers and wraps her arms around him, burying her face into his chest. "I'm scared, Baby. Guns, prison…" She starts to tremble again. "It would kill me if anything happened to you, Jax."

He runs his hands up and down her back, trying to soothe her. "Nothing's gonna happen to me, Tara. We're gonna beat this gun charge." He lifts her face and gazes down into those worried green eyes. "I love you, Babe." He strokes her cheek. "Everything'll be fine, I promise."

* * *

><p>The Rosens get the charges dropped on a technicality; apparently a stop for expired tags doesn't represent probable cause to search the van. There's a big party at the Club to celebrate; it's the first time since his arrest that he's been able to persuade Tara to come to the Clubhouse. Although she's forgiven him for his deception, it's clear that knowing shit about the Club, the guns still upsets her. Infinitely grateful for his reprieve, he doesn't try to push her acceptance, knowing it'll take time for her to come to terms with the truth.<p>

In addition to all of his shit, he knows there's something else bothering her. Ever since that medical conference in San Jose, she's been restless, distracted; a few times he's caught her staring into space, those green eyes troubled. Yet each time he'd probe, she'd claim to be fine but then cling to him with such desperation – confusing and worrying him despite her words of assurance. At first he'd thought she was worried about being pregnant; they'd forgotten to use condoms a couple of times in San Jose – he'd even practiced what he'd say when she told him. He knows they're too young to be parents now, but part of him thrills at the idea of having a kid with her – a baby that'd be half her, half him and tie them together forever. But she never says anything so he just watches and waits for her to confide in him.

"Congrats, Bro!" Visiting from Tacoma, Kozik breaks from his conversation with Gemma to give him a bear hug. "Hey, Tara." He beams her a broad, flirtatious smile. "You're looking as gorgeous as ever."

"Knock it off, asshole." Jax grins, tightening his arm around Tara's shoulders while she greets Kozik.

Kozik laughs then takes a pull of his beer. "It'll be good to have you on the run tomorrow, Brother. It's been a while since we've hit the road together."

Beside him, he feels Tara stiffen. With the investigation pending, Clay had grounded them from Club business until those charges cleared. Now that they're free men, Jax and the guys have a run to Eureka in the morning. Since Clay just told them right before the party, he'd had no chance to tell Tara.

"You're going on a run tomorrow?" She steps away from him, her voice tense. Kozik looks uneasily at Jax then Gemma before mumbling his apologies and taking off to find Tig.

"Babe, let's talk about this later, ok?" He reaches out to pull her back into his arms, but she steps away, shaking her head.

"Jax, you just got clear of these charges. How can you think about putting yourself at risk so soon? What if you guys get arrested again?" Tears well in her eyes; she angrily swipes them away.

"Jackson, you need to get your Old Lady in line." Gemma hisses, shooting Tara a murderous glance. "This is not the time or place for these childish hysterics."

Before he can reply, Tara gets into his mother's face, her green eyes spitting fire. "How can you be ok with this? He's the only child you have left, yet you're so cavalier with his life, with his freedom. How could you want him around all this shit? What kind of mother are you?"

"You'd better watch how you talk to me, you little bitch." Gemma warns, her tone absolutely lethal.

"Or what? You'll grab one of those illegal guns and shoot me?"

Jax grabs Tara's arm and steers her away from his mother, pulling her into an empty room. After a long pause, he heaves a loud sigh. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the run. Clay just told us tonight."

She won't look at him, her eyes trained on the reaper carved into the large wooden table. "I need to leave Charming, Jax. And I'm asking, no I'm begging, you to come with me." She finally looks at him, her tear-filled green eyes imploring.

Stunned, he stares at her as if not comprehending the words coming out of her mouth. She grips his hands in hers, squeezing tight. "Please, Baby. There's nothing in this suffocating town for us. We can go somewhere else, anywhere else and have a better life. Please, please say you'll come with me."

He shakes his head. "I don't understand, Tara. What do you mean you have to leave? Our life is here – you and I grew up here, we'll raise our kids here."

"No, Jax. I can't stay here. I want to be a doctor, which means college and medical school. There's no opportunity for that in Charming. And for you, Baby, there's a better path than the Club, one that doesn't end with you in prison or getting killed." Closing her eyes, she shudders, as visualizing either fate for him.

His confusion turns to anger; where does she get off talking about the Sons that way? She doesn't know a fucking thing about what he and his Brothers do, the bond they share. "You don't know what you're talking about, Tara." He yanks his hands from hers. "The Club is my dad's legacy, taking the gavel one day is my 'path'. I thought you fucking understood that. I can't just leave. I don't want to leave."

"Smuggling illegal guns is your idea of a legacy?" She swings from entreaty to incredulity. "No, I don't understand that. You guys got off on a technicality. What about the next time? Not all cops are sloppy. Do you honestly think JT would want you to fulfill his 'legacy' by spending years of your life in prison?"

"Enough!" He shouts, loud enough to make her jump. "The Club is my family. They're my Brothers; I need them, and they need me. You don't just abandon your family. You have no idea what that's like!"

He couldn't have hurt her more had he slugged her with his fist. Instantly regretting his words, he watches her shoulders slump and pain spread across her face. "Tara…" He reaches for her, but she backs away. "I'm sorry, Babe. I didn't mean..."

But she's out the door before he can finish. He runs out after her, but her Jeep is roaring out the TM gates by the time he navigates through the dense party crowd. Heading towards his bike, he stops at the sight of Opie, Chibs and Bobby laughing over some story Piney's telling them. Reversing course, he walks towards his Brothers. Maybe he and Tara need a couple of nights apart to clear their heads; he could use the time to come up with the reasons to convince her to stay. He's got to find those reasons because the idea of her leaving him tears him apart inside. He can't leave his Brothers, but he's damn sure he can't live without her either.

* * *

><p>"I got something for you when I was in Eureka." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a little rose colored box. It's been a week since their big fight, a week since she'd said anything about leaving town. After he'd returned from the two-day run, he'd spent a couple of days groveling for forgiveness (again) then talking her into a camping trip to their special place.<p>

Opening the box, she covers her mouth and gasps. "It's beautiful, Baby. I absolutely love it." He'd been searching the craft booths in Eureka for something special to give her when he saw the perfect necklace – simple yet incomparable, just like Tara. It cost him nearly every dime he made on the run plus all the weed he'd had on him, but at least the guy had thrown in the engraving.

Pulling out the silver chain, tears well in her eyes when she reads the inscriptions on the flat platinum disk. "Together," she whispers reading the engraving while he strokes her hair. "We're meant to be together, Babe." He drops a kiss on the top of her head. "That's what we've always said."

Nodding, she flips the disk around. "JT loves TKT?" She raises her eyebrows questioningly. "Tara Knowles Teller," he explains, lifting her hand to kiss her palm. "I told you that I'm going to marry you one day. That's a promise." Taking the necklace from her, he drapes it around her neck and locks the clasp.

"Thank you." She cups his face, feeding him long, slow kisses before resting her forehead against his. "I want to marry you, Jax - so much. But I'm serious about leaving Charming, Baby. Together." She squeezes his hand. "Please, Jax. I have to get out of this town; get out before I end up like my mother."

"What are you talking about? Is this about your old man? Babe, you don't have to live with that asshole anymore; I can find us a place – we can move in together, as soon as you want."

"No, it's not about my dad." She looks down at their entwined hands. "Jax, when you see us in the future, you're running the Club. What am I doing?" Sensing his confusion, she doesn't want for him to answer. "Am I still answering phones at a doctor's office? Processing repos at TM like Gemma? Working swing shifts at a gas station like my mom? Abandoning any dreams I might've had for myself like she did?" She shakes her head, desperation in her voice. "I can't live like that; I can't be my mother. Not when there's a chance for a better life somewhere else." She stares at him with pleading green eyes. "I got into college, Jax. Actually, three of them – all in California, so you won't have to be far away from your family. We could visit any time you want. Please, Baby. Please say you'll come with me."

When the Mayans ambushed them during the Nevada run, Jax had caught a bullet to the chest. Fortunately, he'd been wearing a protective vest, but the pain had been so intense that he couldn't breathe. Listening to Tara talk about leaving, knowing that won't be able to stop her, feels like a thousand bullets ripping into his chest.

Fuck, he'd actually thought he'd be able to convince her to stay with him, that they belong together. He'd spent most of his time on the run thinking about keeping his dream intact – running the Club with Tara by his side. Suddenly he realizes that he's still that self-centered nine-year old, planning his life around the Club while oblivious to Tara going hungry right in front of him. Could he actually leave the Sons? Or could he actually live without her, the person he loves most in the world? It's a fucking impossible choice - losing the Club or losing Tara. One thing's for certain either way – his life, her life and possibly others won't ever be the same again.

* * *

><p>In the end, it's ironic that issues of law and order wind up swaying Jax's decision. Not long after the Eureka run, the feds arrest and indict Otto on a stack of felony charges. No sloppy cops and technicalities this time so despite Rosen's best efforts, Otto gets sent up to Stockton. His incarceration leaves the Club shorthanded, a dangerous situation for SAMCRO with the ever-growing threats from the Mayans, the Nords and other hostiles – not to mention the constant issues with the Irish. Jax knows that leaving the Club now could lead to one or more of his Brothers getting seriously hurt or killed, and he just can't live with that.<p>

But the day he says goodbye to Tara, he feels like the one who's dying. She's moving to San Diego, despite acceptance from closer schools in Berkeley and Palo Alto. But the school in San Diego will give her a full ride scholarship so no need for any money from her dad (good luck with that) or student loans. Also, her old boss went to med school there and will hook her up with a part-time job working for one of his old classmates. "And I don't have to worry about where to live," she tells him. "Dad was so happy to get rid of me; he called up his cousin who lives there. Apparently she even lives near the campus."

San Diego – it's only an eight hour drive away, but may as well be on the other side of the world. He suspects that to be as much of a factor in her decision to select a school in the south versus one an hour or so away in the Bay Area. He'd offered to drive down with her, afraid of her on the road that long by herself, but she'd refused. She needed to make the drive herself; besides, that eight hour goodbye would be excruciating for both of them.

She doesn't have much stuff – clothes, books, cds – so it doesn't take long before she's packed and ready to go. Standing in her driveway, he stares at her, unable to speak. She looks tired, her green eyes still swollen and red-rimmed from crying last night – but still the most beautiful girl in the world. He feels a little guilty for her lack of sleep since he'd kept her awake most of the last night and every night this week. When he wasn't making love to her, he kept her talking, laughing – as if wanting to keep the sound of her voice, her musical giggles cemented in his memory.

"Last chance." She smiles sadly at him. "You can still come with me. There's room in the car." He starts to shake his head. "I know you can't," she interrupts before he can say anything. "You may not believe this, but I do admire your loyalty, Jax. To the Club, to your dad's memory. You're the most loyal man I know. It's one of the things that make me love you so much."

She pulls something out of her pocket. It's a gold chain with some sort of pendant. She puts it over his head and lifts the pendant that he realizes is a gold bullet. "Please take care of yourself, Jax. Don't let one of these get you. Believe it or not, but you're the smartest guy I know; you've always underestimated that brain of yours. Promise me that you'll always be careful, that you'll make the smart decisions, stay safe." She drops the bullet and strokes his cheek. "I meant it when I said I'd die if anything happened to you. We may be going separate ways, but I wouldn't want to live in a world if you're not in it."

He pulls her to him, his shaking arms squeezing tight, as if to absorb her inside of him and keep her there forever. He feels the tears coming again and buries his face in her shoulder. He doesn't know how long they stand there holding each other, but finally pulls back to cup her wet face. "I promise, Babe. But I need you to promise me something, too. If you need me for anything, anything – you let me know. I don't care about where or when, I'll be there for you. I won't let anyone or anything hurt you, Tara. Ever."

"Like Deputy Baxter?" Smiling at his startled expression, she tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "I'm not that easy to fool, Jackson Teller. She closes her eyes, as if gathering resolve. "I'd better hit the road. It's a long drive." She kisses him softly. "I love you, Baby. I always will."

Clasping her face in his hands, he kisses her long and hard before stepping away. "I love you, too," he says roughly, swiping the tears from his cheeks. "Good luck."

Jamming his hands in his pockets, he watches her blow him a kiss and drive away, taking his heart with her; he certainly feels that it's been ripped out of his chest. He's tempted to jump on his bike and follow her, make sure she gets there safe. But he doesn't trust himself to ride right now – blurry vision, shaking hands - he'd crash for sure. Although that pain would be nothing compared to what's shredding him now.

He lifts the bullet dangling from the chain and presses it to his lips. "I love you, too, Tara. Always, Babe." He tucks the necklace inside his shirt, next to where his heart used to be, and walks over to his bike. Giving her front door one last look, he flashes back to that night when he was fifteen and crossed that point-of-no-return with her, making the choice that changed both of their lives. As much as it fucking hurts right now, he knows that if he could do it over again, he'd make the same choice. Although if he had to do it over again, he'd do everything better.

Jumping on his bike, he gives the bullet a pat, guns the engine and rides to the Clubhouse.


	7. Another Shot to Do This Different Better

**AN: First, a huge thanks to all of you who've taken the time to read, review, follow and/or favorite this story (and me). You've all been a huge source of inspiration!**

**The next few chapters will cover S1-6 (as much as I hated S6 and most of S3, I can't finish this story without dealing with some of what happened during those seasons). I tried not to spend too much time on the scenes covered by the show, since we all know what happened there. Rather, I focused on adding content that I felt was missing and to seed Part 2 where I could. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing. **

**Thanks again!**

**Chapter 6: ANOTHER SHOT TO DO THIS DIFFERENT, BETTER**

"_Oh, Jesus." Gemma covers her mouth with shaking hands as she listens to the doctor explain her son's medical condition: Jackson Teller had suffered a myocardial infarction – a heart attack - apparently triggered by the combination of his congenital heart disease and a series of recent and severe trauma._

_Standing outside Teller's room in the ICU, Gemma stares through the glass at her only child, lying pale and still in the hospital bed. Tears stream down her face as she takes in the breathing tube in his nose, the IV in his arm, the electrodes strapped to his chest connecting him to the EKG machine._

_From a close but discreet distance, Patterson silently observes the MC matriarch break down over the news. She has no love for the woman, but in this moment, she feels genuine sympathy for the mother - a mother who's already suffered the loss of one child, in this very hospital, and could lose another because of the same heart affliction she'd passed down to both her children._

"_What do you mean by 'recent and severe trauma'?" Gemma swipes the tears from her eyes, never looking away from her son - so she doesn't notice the doctor signaling Patterson. Taking her cue, the DA walks towards them. Given her last interaction with Gemma Teller Morrow, this should be interesting…_

* * *

><p>Jax once knew a guy from another charter who'd lost both his legs in a motorcycle accident; another incidence of a supposedly unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Man on a Harley vs. big oak tree; the tree wins every time. No shit. Even ten-year-old Jax could've told him that. But then for years after the accident, the guy would say that he could still feel pain in his thighs or his knees or feet, even though his legs were long gone - phantom limbs he'd called them. At the time, Jax thought the guy was nuts; couldn't fathom how anyone could feel pain in body parts that weren't there. But now, over a decade later, he finally gets it.<p>

It's been over three years since Tara left him; three years since she'd ripped his fucking heart out on her way to a better life away from Charming, away from him. For as long as he can remember, she's been a part of him in some way – from childhood friend to the center of his life – and he still feels the ache of her absence keenly, like that legless biker with his phantom limbs.

He's spent the last three years drunk and high and spoiling for fights. On more than a few occasions, Clay actually grounded him from runs - accusing him of having a death wish, of being a danger to the Club with his drunken recklessness. Each time, his mother had been livid, directing all the blame for his downward spiral on the absent Tara. On one particularly disgraceful night, he'd slugged Opie after his best friend had screamed at him to pull his goddamn head out of his goddamn ass, that Tara would be so disappointed, so disgusted if she could see him now. After stopping the two men who were closer than brothers from beating the shit out of each other, Gemma had snapped - vowing to drive down to San Diego and shoot the poisonous bitch who'd wreaked such havoc. Jax didn't take her threat well, hurling his newly refilled glass of whiskey at the wall. Turning murderous eyes at his startled mother, he hissed his own vow that he'd kill anyone who hurt Tara…absolutely anyone. She must've seen the deadly intent in his eyes because she never mentions Tara's name again.

But someone else brings up Tara's name, rocketing Jax's self-destruction to new heights.

Kozik stops by the Clubhouse for a couple of days on his way back to Tacoma after visiting his brother in San Diego. Sitting next to Jax at the bar, he casually mentions bumping into Tara at a bar in LaJolla. Jax stiffens, slams yet another shot of whiskey and faces Kozik with a mix of both anticipation and dread. He's not seen or heard anything about Tara since the day she left Charming; they'd agreed that a clean break would be necessary for either of them to survive life without the other. Although, for Jax, there's been nothing clean about the fucking mess that his life's been since that break.

Shrugging, he feigns disinterest, not wanting Kozik to see a pathetic pussy desperate for news about his ex. Apparently he fails miserably as Kozik grins broadly and smacks him on the back. Then remembering his Brother's not-so-subtle admiration for Tara, Jax narrows his eyes; if that asshole tried anything with her… Correctly interpreting Jax's expression once again, Kozik laughs and shakes his head. But that initial reassurance gets blown to hell with the bombshells that Kozik does drop. She's graduating early and moving to Chicago for med school, he informs Jax matter-of-factly.

Pouring himself another shot, Jax feels yet something else inside of him die. Every day over the past three years, he's held out the hope that she'd come back. That she'd show up one day and tell him that she's done with college, that no future of higher education could compare to one that they could have together. But as each day with no Tara passed, he sank deeper into depression - medicating with more booze, more weed and more sex with the endless string of nameless, faceless women who weren't Tara. At least not Tara initially; once he'd start fucking them, he'd close his eyes and see her, feel her soft skin, hear her gasping his name and he'd come – sometimes screaming her name. And if anyone in that nameless, faceless parade of pussy had a problem with that, well tough shit.

But the devastating fact she's moving even further away from him is nothing compared to the last bomb that Kozik lets fall. Forgetting his feigned disinterest, Jax wonders aloud why she'd go so far for med school when there are so many good ones in California, or so she told him when she'd tried to convince him to leave with her.

"She was planning on going to Stanford, but then…" Kozik hesitates and stares at him hard, as if trying to decide whether Jax can handle the news without losing his shit.

"Just say it," Jax snaps. He's not some fucking delicate piece of glass that'll shatter with too much pressure. Tossing back the shot, he welcomes the whiskey's sharp burn, desperate for the numbness that he knows all the shots he's had and intends to have will bring eventually.

Eyeing him warily, Kozik decides to continue. "Apparently, she had a bad break up with her boyfriend; they'd planned to go to Stanford together. She turned down his marriage proposal and didn't feel comfortable going there with him. The med school in Chicago is supposed to be as good as Stanford, at least for surgery – which Tara wants to study. And she's got a full scholarship there, too."

Jax tries to refill his glass, cursing as his shaking hands cause him to miss his target, splashing the brown liquid on to the bar. Snarling when Kozik suggest that maybe he's had enough, he chugs directly from the bottle. Coming up for air, he glares at Kozik. "She told you this?"

Kozik shakes his head and explains that the ex-boyfriend had shown up at the bar and hit the roof when he saw her sitting with Kozik. To calm him down, she'd given Kozik a hug goodbye and ushered her pissed ex out of the bar. However, Kozik had followed them, wanting to make sure that Tara was safe with the guy, and overheard the ensuing argument in the parking lot. Apparently the guy wanted another chance, but Tara told him that she wasn't ready to be married to him or anyone with so much school ahead. Kozik wasn't able to hear the rest, but apparently they'd come to some kind of resolution with Tara driving off with the guy.

"She's moved on Brother," Kozik tells him quietly. "It's time you did the same. Before you get yourself or one of us killed." Jax opens to his mouth to tell Kozik to mind his own fucking business when he realizes that the guy probably recounted this story to Gemma or Opie, who told him to tell Jax as a means to pull him out of his self-destructive shit spiral.

Not wanting to hear anymore, Jax slams down the whiskey bottle and stomps to the apartment, where he'd been living since those harsh words with Gemma. He'd planned to find another place to live, but he'd never found the time or inclination. And he'd hoped that when he finally looked for a permanent home, Tara would be back to choose it with him. Well apparently that won't be fucking happening.

Lying down on the unmade bed, he closes his eyes, but the unwelcome images of Tara with some other guy has him bolting upwards. He pulls the necklace she gave him over his head and stares at the long gold bullet. He's worn it every day since she put it around his neck before saying goodbye. A sane man probably wouldn't have wanted the constant reminder of the perfect girl he'd loved and lost, but then Jax's always been a little south of sane when it comes to Tara.

She's got a goddamn boyfriend, a relationship serious enough to lead the bastard to propose marriage and expect acceptance. She's fucking moved on while he's still banging faceless croweaters, waiting for her to come back to him. How fucking, fucking pathetic is that? Gripping the necklace in his fist, he hurls it across the room with all the force he can muster – wanting to hear chain links crack apart, the bullet shatter from the impact. But the clattering noise of the necklace hitting the wall and sliding to the floor provides no solace as the heart he'd thought she'd taken with her shatters again. Opening the nightstand drawer, he pulls out his stash of weed as the whiskey isn't bringing him oblivion quickly enough. He smokes one then another then another until the thought of Tara with another guy fades and she's his again, curled next to him as he drifts to sleep.

"You look like shit." Piney growls at him as Jax tries not to stumble to his bike. He doesn't want to get grounded from this run as they're a split team with Clay, Tig, Chibs and Opie in Oakland. He, Bobby and the Prospect had a delivery to make in Redding – a routine run they've made dozens of times in the past few years. Glaring at Piney, he straps on his helmet, "I'm fine."

But he's not fine, and the run winds up far from routine. His pounding headache causes him to fall behind his Brothers, and his erratic riding rouses the suspicion of a Sanwa deputy sheriff lying in wait for speeders. He gets pulled over under suspicion of DUI and gets discovered with a stash of handguns. Despite Rosen's best efforts, Jax gets sent off to Stockton for five years with possibility of parole in two.

As he walks into his cell for the first time, Jax thinks about Tara; how terrified she'd been of him going to prison, how scared he'd been of having to spend years without her. He'd laugh at the irony of it all if it weren't so fucking sad. Once again he wonders what would've happened had he left with her – could he have found his place in her college world? Maybe, maybe not – but at least they would've been together, and he wouldn't be walking around half dead. But he did make the choice to stick with the Club, and the shit stew he's made of his life seems like a mockery of how fucking painful it'd been to give up Tara. He'd given up a life with her to do what exactly? Drink himself to death and alienate his Brothers? Spend his life in prison for getting caught doing stupid, reckless shit? Because that's the path he's on now, and until he does what Opie screamed at him to do – pull his head out of his ass – he won't ever be worthy of one day holding the gavel, the one thing that seemed more important to him than being with her.

Sitting on the prison cot, he stares at the tattoo on his arm – the inked tribute to his dad. Tara's gone, moving to Chicago maybe even marrying her goddamn boyfriend; the Club, his dad's legacy, is his all he has left. It's about fucking time for him to move on, too.

* * *

><p>Well this is a grim homecoming…<p>

After nearly a week on the road, Jax and his Brothers are ready to party and celebrate their hard-fought success. The Irish are finally happy, the Niners and Italians are finally happy, and SAMCRO is finally in the black. What could possibly fuck up a perfectly good day? Well Unser and Gemma standing in wait for him at the Clubhouse entrance doing their best reaper imitations might be the answer.

Judging from their matching dour expressions, his brain jumps to the conclusion that something bad's happened to Wendy and the baby. He knows he should care, and part of him does – it's just the other part of him that never really wanted to be married to her or be father to her unborn child seems to be rearing its ugly head more often lately. He can barely stand to look at her, disgusted by her weakness for drugs coupled with his suspicion that she'd gotten pregnant on purpose to pull him back into their fucked-up joke of a marriage. The baby's due in a couple of months, and he's got no goddamn clue what to do once that happens; it's just easier to sink deeper in the Club business and forget the shit show that's passed for his personal life these past eleven years.

"What's up? Are Wendy and the baby ok?" He walks towards the frowning pair, signaling to his Brothers that he'll join them in a minute. Unser and his mom exchange looks as if not sure which one of them wins the job of telling him the obviously disturbing news. "What?" Jax snaps, losing patience. If Wendy's got herself in another mess, he'll fix it, but he doesn't want to waste any more time talking about how he needs to pay more attention to his domestic situation. As far as he's concerned, he and Wendy are done. He'll provide for the kid, but that's all the contact he intends to have with her.

Assuming his official Chief of Police demeanor, Unser tells him in his blandest voice. "Frank Knowles is dead."

It's definitely not the news Jax's expecting to hear, and the shock of it stuns him into silence. Not because he's got even an inkling of sadness over the son-of-a-bitch's death; Jax's hated the man violently since learning about how he'd nearly beaten Tara to death when she was twelve. No, it's a jolt to his system to hear anything even remotely connected to her spoken aloud.

Since getting out of prison, he's worked hard to transform himself from that love-sick, self-destructive boy to this resolute, hard-nosed Son. Over the past five years, he's been everything that Clay and Gemma have envisioned him to be as the future leader of SAMCRO, earning the VP patch earlier than anticipated (also due to Piney's ever-increasing withdrawal from Club business, yet unwavering support for his best friend's son). But it's as if everyone believes Tara to be his kryptonite; they avoid talking about her or anything that might bring up her name or memory attached to her. What they don't know is that the bullet necklace he'd recovered (unscathed from getting thrown across the wall) after getting out of prison and rarely removes was her parting gift to him or that he still makes love to her every time he fucks someone else, including his own wife. Yes, he's moved on…as much as he can.

Aware of Unser and Gemma staring at him intently, he recovers quickly. "And you're telling me this because you think I might've had something to do with it? Any motive I'd have would be ancient history. Besides I'm sure I've got a pretty good alibi."

Shaking his head, Unser corrects Jax's incorrect assumption. "No, nothing like that. Knowles wasn't murdered; he stroked out on his bar stool a few nights ago."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jax barks out a short laugh. "Old Frank and I weren't exactly drinking buddies. Hell at one point I probably would've thrown a party to celebrate the SOB dying. Now I just don't give a shit." He shrugs and starts walking towards the Clubhouse door. "We done?"

"I called Tara to give her the news; she's coming back to Charming to bury her dad and settle his affairs," Unser delivers the news quietly but the magnitude of it rocks Jax with the force of an atom bomb.

"When?" The question, whispered with desperate anticipation, escapes him before he can control himself.

"Hale's picking her up from the airport today." Hale. Now Unser's Deputy Chief, the sanctimonious prick who Jax's hated since grade school, now bugs the shit out of him on another level given the man's single-minded determination to bring down SAMCRO.

"You running an airport limo service now?" Jax can't keep the resentment out of his tone. Of course Hale would volunteer to pick up Tara; for as long as Jax could remember, Hale's never passed up the chance to spend more time with her. When they were kids, Jax had laughed about it; however, once he'd claimed Tara for his own, he'd lost any sense of humor over the guy's repeated attempts to be with her.

"Baby, she'll be in and out." Gemma breaks her silence, reaching over grab her son's arm as if to stop him from even thinking about seeking out his ex-Old Lady. "There's no point in you even having to see her. You've got enough on your plate without having to dig up old trauma with that bitch. Just let her bury her dad then get the hell out of town."

"Sure." Jax shrugs with casualness that fools no one, especially himself. Marching through the Clubhouse, he ignores the shouts from his Brothers to join them for drinks. Instead, he closets himself in the apartment and sits on the bed, head in hands as he tries to calm the fucking shit storm inside of him. He's worked too hard to regain control of his life, to right his path. He can't afford for anyone to have so much power over him again; those first three years without Tara had nearly destroyed him and he can't ever go there again - he might not survive a next time. Maybe his Mom's right, he should just let he blow into town, bury her dad and leave. He's not talked to her in eleven years, what could he possibly say to her now?

Looking up, his eye catches one of the photos on the mirror. Maybe he's a masochist, but he's never been able to throw away the photos of him and Tara. And there were a lot of them; back then he couldn't have enough pictures of her surrounding him. Now he keeps most of them in a box with pictures of his dad and Tommy, but his two favorite photos of the two of them stay with him always.

Walking over to the dresser, he gazes at the photo of his sixteen-year-old self grinning like the King of the World. And at the time, he'd every reason to feel that way - wearing his new Prospect cut, atop his new Harley and with Tara, the most beautiful girl in the world, draped around him. Both Gemma and Wendy hated this photo and had railed at him to toss it. He'd scoffed at their complaints, accused them of being so insecure that a relic of ancient history could bother them so much. But he'd threatened both of them to leave the photo alone; no one touches his property without dire recourse.

Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, he retrieves the second photo. Both Gemma and Wendy would go out of their fucking minds if they knew that he carried around this snapshot - not that he gives a shit whether they know or not - but it's a photo that he likes to keep to himself. Taken during Gemma and Clay's wedding, he loves the image for both what it shows above and below the surface. Smiling radiantly and looking gorgeous in that pale green dress, Tara sits across his lap, one arm around his shoulder and her head pressed against his. He's got both arms wrapped tightly around her with one hand squeezing her thigh possessively. And like the motorcycle photo and every photo of him with her, he's wearing that smug King of the World grin. To any casual observer, the photo shows two kids obviously crazy about each other, not a care in the world. But what no one could possibly see is the strong-as-steel support that Tara brought him that day; how she'd turned what could've been a fucking miserable night into one of his best memories, complete with some of the best sex of his life. He runs his finger softly across her image; she'd always been there for him – Tommy, his dad, when Opie had moved away that first time, Gemma & Clay's wedding…Maybe it's about time for him to be there for her.

Not surprisingly, Frank Knowles' funeral isn't well attended - the belligerent town drunk's death doesn't attract many mourners: a small handful of co-workers and drinking buddies, Hale and Tara. And he's pretty sure that Hale's not there to pay last respects to a frequent guest of the Charming jail. Tara must've expected the poor turnout as there's no viewing or church service, just a very short burial at the cemetery with Old Man Knowles going into the ground next to his long dead wife.

Not wanting to attract attention, Jax waits by his bike until everyone leaves except Tara and fucking Hale, who's probably still playing chauffeur to his childhood crush. Taking a deep breath, he tells himself that he's not anxious at the prospect of seeing his ex after eleven years. He's the fucking VP of a bad ass MC, not that desperate love-sick pussy she'd left behind. What he and Tara had is ancient history; all he wants to do now is support an old friend and then be on his way.

She has her back to him as she talks to Hale, and old desires surge as he notes that her legs, encased in sleek black trousers, are just as beautifully long and slim and that ass he'd loved so much is just as perfect as he'd remembered. Hale notices him approaching and scowls blackly, causing Tara to turn around to discover the source of Hale's displeasure.

He once read about a theory that time distorts your memories of people, fostering hyperbole instead of reality – that someone you might've thought was the most beautiful person in the world in the past could never live up to those expectations when you saw them again after long separations. He'd clung to that belief in his preparation for this afternoon; that there's no way that thirty-year old Tara could ever compete with the most beautiful girl in the world immortalized in his memories and his photos. But staring into her flawless face – the creamy skin, the perfect features and those hypnotic green eyes that have owned him since he was a kid – he realizes how fucking off base that theory is when applied to Tara Knowles.

"Jax." Flashing him a warm smile, she's crosses the distance between them and wraps him in a tight hug. Momentarily frozen by the contact, it takes Jax a few heartbeats to respond, but she's pulling away before he can act on his instinctive desire to crush her to him.

Heart pounding, he shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing her. No, he's not that desperate love-sick pussy; he can't afford to be. Not with the Club depending on him; not with impending fatherhood. But he's not fucking immune either. Entranced by her smile, he finds himself grinning back at her – feeling alive for the first time in eleven years.

"Hi Tara."

* * *

><p>He doesn't know what the hell to think. Or what the hell to do.<p>

A few days after burying her dad, Tara surprises everyone by accepting a surgical residency position at St. Thomas – transferring from a prestigious medical center in Chicago to St. Redneck's, as Charming's tiny hospital was not-so-affectionately known. Upon hearing the news, Gemma and his Brothers zero in on him – as if her decision to stay is somehow precipitated by any action on his part. Although he assures them vehemently that he's got no intention of rehashing ancient history, he can't seem to stop thinking about what it might be like to be with her again.

Part of him knows it could never work – she's a different person now; so poised and refined, that he wonders if there's any bit of that spirited girl he'd loved so much that even exists anymore. What happened to the Tara who'd get drunk and set off illegal fireworks in the park with him and Opie, who'd wear nothing under her dress to a biker wedding, who'd drag him out of a packed movie theatre to have unrestrained sex in the bathroom? But although she seems completely transformed, he's still the same guy, doing even more of the same shit that terrified her before. She couldn't accept what little she knew about the Club back then, fuck knows how horrified she'd be now.

But then there's another – more hopeful – part of him that perceives her return as some kind of sign, a chance to put to rights the shit that's gone sideways in his life. His personal life's a fucking disaster; that's nothing new. It's just that lately, he's not even able to find the usual escape through the Club. Over the past few months, he's been growing tired of the senseless violence, the knee-jerk reactions that deliver more risk than reward. He's never been one to shy away from the hard shit, from dispensing Mayhem to protect the Club; however, to kill and destroy without a plan or clear purpose gnaws on him to the point that he's starting to question what the hell they're doing, not to mention the future vision for the Club. So with every fucking aspect of his life in turmoil, he feels completely lost – just like when his dad died and his mom instantly turned to Clay. Fifteen years ago, Tara helped him navigate through that hell; it can't be coincidence that the one person who's always centered him, believed in the best in him would reappear in his life now.

And as if he needed more proof of a higher power at work, not even a week into her new job, Tara helps save his son's life after Wendy's weakness and his own blind stupidity pretty much consign their baby to death. But despite the bleak twenty percent survival rate, Tara and the surgical team repair his son's torn stomach and defective heart - ensuring Abel's full recovery and giving him the chance at fatherhood that he's not sure he deserves but infinitely grateful to have. The day after the miraculous surgery, he overhears Dr. Namid telling one of the other doctors that he's never seen a surgical resident with such razor-sharp instincts or more gifted hands than Dr. Knowles. That the Teller baby might not have survived if she hadn't been there. Dazed from the feelings bombarding him, he makes his way to the NICU, not sure who he wants to see more – his newborn baby or the beautiful, brilliant girl who's selflessly breathed life into both him and his son.

Through the window, he watches her work – monitoring his son's vitals and providing direction to the nurses and interns.

She told him that she'd always love him. However, that was a different time, a different Tara; he doesn't expect her to feel the same way, although it fucking hurts like hell that she might not. Last night when she'd told him that Abel would recover, he'd been overwhelmed by his feelings for her and - for a moment - thought she might've felt the same. Then the blood he hadn't bothered to clean off his cut had smeared her pristine white doctor's coat, and she'd pushed him away, disgusted and disappointed.

Yes, she's a different person now, but how he feels about her hasn't changed, will never change. But given the fucked up state of his life – personified by his poor kid being kept alive in that "toaster," he's got no goddamn clue what to do about it except stay close and hope for some kind of signal from her that she might still feel something for him.

Eleven years ago she'd ripped out his heart when she left town; last night she gave it back to him when she saved his son. "I love you, Tara," he whispers against the glass.

* * *

><p>Despite being a patched member of an MC with a rather sordid history of meting out violence and death, Jax can count the number of people he's truly hated on just one hand; not coincidently, all of them have some connection to Tara. It seems like the intensity of his feelings for her triggers a corresponding hatred for anyone he perceives to be a threat – like Hale, who would've done anything to steal her from him, or Old Man Knowles, who abused her physically and emotionally.<p>

However, he's never hated anyone with more violent fury than ATF Agent Joshua Kohn - not even Tara's dad, who he'd wanted to murder on a daily basis back in high school. Just the very idea that the asshole had been in a relationship with Tara – had slept with the one girl who Jax would always consider to be his – makes him want to rip the guy's dick off with his pliers. Jax knows he's a total fucking hypocrite, having slept with more women than he can count – including his (soon-to-be-ex) wife, but he's never been rational when it comes to Tara.

After warning the asshole fed to stop harassing Tara, he confronts her, demanding to know what Kohn had done to put such fear in her eyes. Huddled in a miserable ball on her couch, she can't seem to stop trembling as she recounts the horror of her relationship with the psychotic ATF agent – the crazy possessiveness, the abusive tirades, the violent beatings; it was the severity of one of those attacks that enabled her to get the restraining order after two failed attempts.

Shaking with rage, Jax shoots out of his chair and stalks towards the door. He should've plunged his knife into that bastard's fucking throat instead of his piece of shit rental car, but it's not too late to correct a mistake.

"Jax, where are you going? Jax, stop! Stop!" Tara rushes in front of him, blocking his path to the door.

"You gotta get out of my way, Tara." It takes all of his self-control not to push past her; with all the burning fury and hate coiling inside of him, he's afraid that even the slightest contact with him might hurt her. And that's the last thing he wants; he intends to kill the fucking assholes who hurt her, not join their ranks.

"Jax, listen to me. I told you that Kohn's dangerous…"

"So am I, babe."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Jax, Joshua is unstable, capable of anything – but he's also a fed and they protect each other. Believe me, I know." She clutches his cut. "You have to think of Abel."

"What are you talking about, Tara? That asshole can't hurt Abel if he's dead…"

"No, Jax. You have to think about how your actions will affect Abel. You hurt Kohn or you kill him, and what happens to Abel? Wendy's not capable of raising him alone, Jax. He needs you. He needs his father. And you can't be there for him if you're in prison or dead." She must sense him wavering and goes in for the kill; rubbing his arm, spearing him with those pleading green eyes. "Jax, actions always have consequences, but for you the stakes are even greater now that you have this beautiful little boy depending on you. Don't let him down."

He freezes from the jarring effect of her words; they could also apply to his growing disillusionment with his Club – so much blind, violent action with little or no thought of consequence. He's got to start thinking about the big fucking picture – all this senseless bloodshed could only wind up hurting his Club and possibly his precious baby boy. And so for the first time in his life, Jax turns to the guy he's hated most of his life for help. Like him, Hale would do anything for Tara; but he'd do it within the letter of the law – ensuring that Kohn would be shipped back to Chicago, she'd be safe and Jax would avoid the severe punitive ramifications for killing a fed.

But Hale's reasonable methods don't work on a psycho like Kohn, and Jax winds up imposing his own brand of justice on the motherfucker. Jax would've preferred to exact some brutal and protracted torture before dispatching Kohn to hell - especially after the goddamn bastard tried to rape Tara. But as he watches his strong, self-possessed Tara fall apart from all the crippling fear and anxiety inflicted by this prick, other images of her bombard him...

…ten-year-old Tara, covered with bruises, crying at her mother's grave  
>…twelve-year-old Tara showing up at Tommy's funeral despite her battered face, broken ribs and fractured arm<br>…fourteen-year-old Tara, cold and shivering, forced to sleep outside as punishment for burning her dad's dinner  
>…seventeen-year-old Tara lying bloody and bruised on the jailhouse floor<p>

But it's the voice - vicious and taunting, spewing hauntingly familiar insults - that drives him over the edge.

"…stupid bitch"  
>"…pathetic whore"<br>"Once a biker slut, always…"

Consumed with hate and rage, Jax loses his shit; Joshua Kohn and Frank Knowles merging in his mind, he stalks towards the sick bastard and blows a hole through his fucking head. And with the justice levied by that deadly bullet, Kohn and Tara's old man fall silent, never to hurt her again.

* * *

><p>He's afraid to close his eyes; that if he does, she'd be gone when opens them, and he'd be alone and empty again like how all of his dreams about her have ended. But the woman beneath him looks like Tara, feels like Tara; no one else fits him this perfectly, fires his blood with such heat, incites every cell in his body to jolt with pleasure.<p>

His dick had certainly recognized her; swelling rock hard the instant she'd pressed her soft lips against his. He'd kissed her back to soothe her, to distract her from the horror she'd just witnessed. But like the night she'd helped save Abel, his feelings for her overwhelmed him – although this time, instead of pushing him away, she'd clutched him to her. Straddling him, she'd ripped open his jeans while he tore off her panties; all of the pent-up desire and need they'd tried to ignore, tried to deny since she'd returned detonated into the most explosive fuck to ever rock his world. Both of them were still trembling from that fiery release – his cock still wedged inside her - when he'd hardened again, something that hadn't happened to him since the last time he'd been with her. She'd flashed him that saucy smile he'd never thought he'd see again. "That's my Jax," she'd purred in his ear. "Fuck me again, baby."

This time, they manage to strip each other naked – except for his bullet necklace that drops on to her breast as he looms above her. "You still wear this," she whispers in wonder, lifting the golden projectile to her lips only to drop it and tunnel her fingers through his hair when he rolls a thick pink nipple into his mouth and sucks hard. Listening to her gasp his name, he wonders if her nipples are still ultra-sensitive, whether he can still make her come from licking and suckling those pink buds. Then he feels her soft, warm hand on his balls – squeezing and massaging the swollen sacs – and all thoughts evaporate except the one to plunge back deep inside of her and stay there forever.

Unlike round one of their carnal reunion - a lightning strike with the intensity of a nuclear blast - round two builds slowly, gathering tension with each hungry kiss, each slow thrust of his hard cock, each tight clench of her scorching wet inner walls, each lingering rasp of her stiff nipples against his chest. He feels his balls draw up, ready to erupt; however, not wanting to come without her, he buries his face in her neck, sucking hard on her soft, sensitive skin. She screams his name over and over as she goes off like a rocket; the blazing force of her climax squeezes his dick like a hot fist – gripping tighter and tighter until he explodes inside of her. Gasping for breath, he manages to press a kiss to her forehead before rolling to his side, but he keeps his arms around her and his dick inside her - wanting to maintain the connection to her for as long as he can.

Snuggling against him, she passes out instantly - completely wrung out from the combination of two explosive orgasms on top of the night's horrifying ordeals. However, despite his own physical and emotional exhaustion, Jax can't sleep – too much complex shit swirling around in his head. He killed a man tonight, and not just any man – a goddamn federal agent. Only a few hours ago, he'd argued with Clay about the dangers of retaliating with blind, reckless violence; that all the mindless bloodshed could wind up killing SAMCRO. But then he guns down an ATF agent in his ex-Old Lady's bedroom without any thought of consequence. He could laugh at the irony of it, not to mention the hypocrisy, if it just wasn't so fucked up.

Watching Tara sleep, he feels both elated and terrified; after so many years of dreaming of her, he finally has her back – but to what end? Will she be willing to share his life, knowing that includes putting up with everything he has to do for his Club – even the bad shit that scares her? Or will he have to watch her walk away again because she can't accept the life he lives? But after holding her again, having her again, how could he possibly be strong enough to let her go again?

And then there's his son, his precious Abel, whom he held in his arms for the first time just a few hours ago. Tara was right when she'd told him that all of his decisions, all of his actions would have far greater consequences now that he has this tiny life depending on him. Knowing that Abel will always have to be his first priority, could he even realistically pursue a relationship with Tara? Loving her had always consumed him, but he knows he can't afford to go there given his responsibilities to his son and to his Club.

Jax glances over to the dark corner where Kohn's dead body lay; the bastard had sealed his own fate when he'd attacked Tara. Eleven years ago, Jax had promised her that he'd always be there for her, that he'd never let anyone or anything hurt her. But he had to admit that it had hurt him to think she'd only come back home so that he could fulfill that promise; had hurt him to know that while he'd never stopped loving her, never stopped pining for her, that she only saw him as a means to rid her of that psychotic stalker.

But then all of his hurt vanished tonight when she'd called him - frantic and terrified - begging him to come back and save her from the monster who wouldn't let her go; any lingering resentment he may have felt at being manipulated faded away the instant she'd kissed him, held him tight. Thinking about how her unguarded green eyes had glowed with desire and, yes, love when he'd pushed inside her - he realizes that she still feels that same pull for him that will always burn inside him for her. He pulls her tighter against him, his hand stroking her lower back where he knows his crow still marks her as his. "She's mine, you goddamn son-of-a-bitch," he whispers to the dead man. "Mine."

* * *

><p>Besides Opie, his Brothers don't know how to act around her; as if they see a complete stranger instead of the girl who'd once been his other half. Hell, they've started calling her "Doc" instead of her actual name; especially after she'd shown up at the Clubhouse in her hospital scrubs and saved their IRA contact, Cameron Hayes. He can't blame them; he'd had the same initial reaction – the poised and confident Dr. Knowles seems to bear little resemblance to saucy teenage Tara who had him panting after her day and night. Although, over the past few days he feels like he's in high school again – spending nearly every night with her, making love to her over and over; she may not be teenage Tara anymore, but he's definitely still panting day and night.<p>

Surprisingly, it's Tig who first bridges the gap with her. She'd come to the Clubhouse after work to meet him for a drink before dinner. Sitting across his lap, she's chatting with Opie while he nuzzles her neck and thinks about dragging her into the apartment for a quick fuck (just like old times) when his crazy asshole Brother approaches them.

"Hey Tara, you still shoot pool?" Jax shakes his head in disgust; the douchebag's always looking for a way to hustle people out of their cash.

"Not in years," Tara slides off of Jax's lap and walks towards the pool table. "Been too busy between school and work. I'm not even sure I remember how."

"Well, I can go easy on you." Tig hands her a stick then proceeds to rack up the balls while Tara contemplates the cue like she'd never see one before. "Let's say, hundred bucks a game."

Opie raises his eyebrows and darts a look at Jax, who practically chokes on his beer. "Tig," he warns.

"That's a little too rich for my blood," Tara shakes her head, handing the pool stick back to Tig. "I'm just a surgical resident. One who hasn't been near a pool table in years."

"Fifty bucks." Tig pushes the stick back into her hands. "And I'll let you break."

She hesitates then looks over her shoulder at Jax, a twinkle in those green eyes. He smiles and shrugs. "Okay," she tells Tig and leans over the table to aim her shot, drawing every male eye in the room. Shit, many things have changed about Tara Knowles since high school, but certainly not that perfect, drool-worthy ass.

Three games later, she's a hundred and fifty dollars richer, leaving Tig in a sputtering state of shock. The first two games had been so close; Tig had been ahead both times until Tara came back from behind, sinking some "lucky" shots to win by the smallest of margins. By the third game, Tara must've had enough because she dispatched Tig in half the time, letting him have the first turn before she demolished him.

"Dinner's on me, Teller." She wraps her arms around his neck then spears him with a hot kiss that curls his toes and causes his already hard cock to twitch with impatience. He's about to grip her ass and press her against him when she whirls around to invite Opie to join them for dinner.

Jax can tell Opie's about to accept and that's fine with him, but first thing's first. "Give us a few minutes," he tells his friend, tosses Tara over his shoulder and practically sprints towards the apartment. Not many thing have changed about Jackson Teller since high school, certainly not his never-ending passion for Tara.

* * *

><p>"I love that this place is still here." Tara leans against him as she fondly surveys the sun setting against the sloping mountains, the lush green trees and the blue lake in the distance. "You'd think David's brother or someone would've tried to develop this land by now."<p>

With all the horrible shit that's happened in the past couple of weeks – including Donna's tragic murder and the terrifying fact Tara had been so close to leaving him again – he'd wanted to escape with her for a few days. And he could think of no better place than their old get-away camping spot near Mt. Walker. It hadn't been hard to convince Gemma to take Abel for a couple of days, although she'd been irate over the reason. Too fucking bad. He'd told his mother that she needed to get used to the fact that he and Tara are together again, that no amount of bitching and sniping on her part would change that. Ever.

"No one can develop this land," he tells her, lifting their entwined hands to kiss her fingers. "A couple of years ago, the Wahewa won a lawsuit against the state to reclaim all this property, which had been theirs originally."

"Then aren't we trespassing?" She turns in his lap so that's she's facing him and wraps her arms around his neck, "I'd really hate to wind up in jail with you again. That's not the trip down memory lane I'd like to repeat."

"Nope." He can't help himself and presses smacking kisses against her plump pink lips. "My old man used to be friends with the chief's brother. That's how he found this place to take me and Tommy. I talked to Charlie, that's the Chief, and he said we can come here anytime."

"Wow. Gorgeous, sexy and has important friends in high places," she tweaks his goatee. "I'm a lucky girl."

"About to get luckier." He brushes a lock of hair from her face, and before she can reply, he slants his mouth over hers while his hands encircle her neck, his thumbs and fingers pressing the sensitive areas he knows makes her crazy. She responds immediately, her tongue tangling with his while her warm hands crawl under his shirt to slide up and down his back.

Without breaking the kiss, he pushes her back to lie on the blanket, pulling open the buttons of her shirt to squeeze her breasts through her silky bra. He feels her hands working on the fly, then pushing his jeans and boxers down to squeeze his bare ass. He closes his eyes, goddamn he fucking adores this girl. Taking advantage of his momentary stillness, she rolls them over until she's looming above him. She pulls his sweatshirt over his head then bends over to suck one of his nipples into her mouth while her thumb strokes the other one over and over. Before he can pull her up and devour her mouth, she starts to slide down his body, dropping wet kisses to his chest, his stomach.

Sitting up, she pulls off his jeans and boxers. "Open up for me, Baby," she coaxes, pulling his legs apart then bending his knees; her hot green gaze meets his before locking in on his stiff cock pressed against his stomach. Flashing that saucy smile he loves so much, she leans in and sucks one of his balls into her mouth, her fingers fondling its twin. "Holy shit, Tara," he gasps, his head arching back while stars dance in front of his eyes. He hears himself moan loudly and then again when she switches to suck his other sac, while her hand slides up and down his cock, her thumb stroking the swollen head. Prying his eyes apart, he watches through a pleasure soaked haze while she drags her tongue up the length of his cock before swirling around the head, lapping up all his pre-come. "Shit, Babe," he gasps. "You gotta stop, I'm too close."

Pulling away, she stands up before him and slowly shrugs off her open shirt, that saucy smile never leaving her lips. He watches intently as she takes off her jeans and then straightens so he can openly admire all that creamy pale skin in contrast to the silky black bra and bikini underwear. She discards her underwear before straddling his legs, her hands moving up to toy with the front clasp of her bra. "You ready for me, Baby?" She traces a lone finger up his quivering dick. Suddenly unable to speak, he nods then stares in rapt attention as she flicks open the clasp, freeing her full, pink-tipped breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmurs as he reaches up to fill his hands with those lush mounds. "You're so fucking beautiful, Tara." Reaching over to pluck a condom out of his bag, she tears it open and holds the piece of latex with one hand before reaching over to grip his cock. "I can definitely say the same thing about you, Jax." She slides her thumb over the wet head once, twice before rolling on the condom and guiding him inside her.

Sliding his hands to her hips, he thrusts deep into his personal piece of heaven. Fuck, she's so wet, so tight, so goddamn hot; he knows instantly that he's not going to last much longer. That sizzling foreplay's spiked his lust to volcanic levels, and his control's all gone. Rearing up, he presses a wet kiss to one of her nipples before rolling it into his mouth, suckling hard. "Oh god, Jax." She's panting, her fingers tangling in his hair, pushing him closer to her breast, riding him faster, harder. He slides one hand to her lower back, pressing against her tattoo; his other hand moving between them, his fingers stroking her soft, soaking wet lips. Shifting to suck her other nipple, he presses his thumb hard against her clit, igniting a blazing climax for both of them.

It takes a while to start breathing normally; he buries his face between her breasts while she runs her fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. Brushing his thumb against a pale pink nipple, he remembers another reason he'd wanted to bring her here. "Close your eyes and don't move," he orders, smiling as she raises her eyebrows questioningly. When she closes her eyes, her thick black lashes stark against her pale skin, he reaches over to pull a box out of his bag.

Back in high school, Tara always wore necklaces – all gifts from him. He liked buying her things, especially since she never got shit from her old man; loved seeing her wear what he'd picked out for her - kind of like more visible proof to the world that she knew she was his. But he'd noticed that since she'd come back to Charming, she hadn't worn any jewelry of any kind – obviously not at the hospital, but not even when he saw her away from work. Well it's time to fix that.

He'd seen the gold necklace during a run to Nevada he'd made with Bobby a few months ago and instantly thought of how perfect it would look against her pale skin. At the time he'd felt fucking stupid buying her a necklace when there was no indication that he'd ever have a reason to give it to her. But after staring at the gold circle pendant and thinking about what it could mean, he had to buy it for her; had to have hope that someday there'd be a reason to give it to her.

Well they say fortune favors the brave – it'd taken a leap of faith to spend all that money, but now, watching those green eyes light up as she pulls the necklace from the box makes him feel like a fucking zillionaire. "Oh Jax," she whispers in wonder as the light from the campfire burnishes the necklace's gold hue.

Taking it from her, he lightly fingers the golden circle. "We've come full circle, Babe. You and me. I've always said we're meant to be together. I love you, Tara."

Tears slip from her eyes as she reaches for him, slamming her mouth against his in long, wet kiss. "I love you, Jax," she gasps when they come up for air, then pulls him into a tight embrace.

Feeling those lush bare breasts against his chests reminds him again of something else he'd wanted to do. Pulling away, she looks at his smiling face, "What is it?" then looks down at the necklace that he's still holding. "Are you going to let me put it on?"

"Oh yeah," he grins wickedly. "But I've been wanting to try something."

"Really?" She arches a perfect brow - more than a little familiar with all the things he'd wanted to "try" – then bursts into peals of musical giggles as she watches him position the necklace. "Jax!"

"Perfect, fucking perfect." He admires his handiwork, the golden circle framing her pert pink nipple, then leans forward to lick the velvety crest, again and again until it hardens against his tongue. "I've been wondering if I can still make you come by sucking on these puppies."

A few minutes later he has his answer as she screams his name, her fingers gripping his hair as she rubs against his stiff-again cock. "God, I love you, Jax," she pants. "Love you, love you, love you…"

He closes his eyes and buries his face in her damp hair as he clasps her tightly in his arms. Fate's given him another shot with her – one that he's wanted every day for eleven years; however, he knows the timing is no accident. She's come back to him while he stands at crossroads in his life; fatherhood and finding his father's manuscript give him the reasons to make the changes in his life, in his Club – Tara gives him the hope and the strength.


	8. You Stay with Me…You'll Find Your Place

**Chapter 7: YOU STAY WITH ME, I PROMISE, YOU'LL FIND YOUR PLACE**

"_What the hell are you doing here?" Gemma Teller Morrow hisses as Patterson approaches her and the doctor standing outside her son's room in ICU. "I have nothing to say to you, bitch. Get out."_

"_Don't you want to know what might have caused your son's 'recent and severe trauma'?" Patterson challenges, probing for any reaction. She knows there's no love lost between the MC matriarch and her deceased daughter-in-law. If anyone would know anything about Teller murdering his wife, it would be his beloved mother. Anything and everything to protect SAMCRO is, after all, the Teller family mantra._

"_What would you know of it? Unless you and that black asshole deputy did something to hurt him?" Fortunately, the doctor has quick reflexes and manages to restrain Gemma as she lunges for Patterson. "You goddamn bitch! If you did anything to my son, I will fucking kill…"_

"_Careful, Mrs. Morrow," Patterson cautions as she steps closer towards the furious, thrashing woman. "You wouldn't want to get arrested for threatening the life of a district attorney, would you? Your son needs you here, not in jail."_

_The implied threat hits home as she stills, then straightens to glare at Patterson. "What the fuck did you people do to my son?"_

"_Nothing." Patterson nods a thank you to the doctor before training cold eyes on Gemma. "Your son found his wife's body on their kitchen floor and went a little crazy. My guess is the strain of it all might have triggered his present condition – although I'll leave the official medical diagnosis to the doctor here."_

_The DA watches closely, appraisingly as Gemma pales with shock then lifts trembling hands to swipe at the fresh tears streaming down her face. "Oh god, oh my god," she sobs raggedly, turning once again to stare at her son lying unconscious in his hospital bed._

* * *

><p>From the doorway Jax watches Tara fall deeper in love with another guy, her beautiful face glowing with adoration as she sings softly to the blue-eyed boy cuddled in her arms. He's never liked sharing his girl with anyone - especially other guys - but since the other guy in this case is his infant son, he's ok with making this one exception. Unnoticed by the pair who only have eyes for each other, Jax can't help but smile as Abel gurgles happily – the baby's usual reaction every time Tara touches him. Since getting out of the "toaster," it's grown more and more evident that Abel shares his old man's fascination for the same woman; wriggling with excitement when he spots her, fussing impatiently until she holds him – Jax can certainly understand the feeling.<p>

Tara had told him that babies can often recognize faces and voices of people they see regularly; that since she's spent so many hours with Abel every day since his birth, it's only normal that he'd be somewhat attuned to her. But Jax sometimes wonders if his son's marked preference for Tara stems from some deep-seated recognition of the woman who'd helped save him, whose gifted hands had literally touched his small heart. In any case, it's perfectly clear that Abel's joined him and Tommy as yet another Teller man to fall under the spell of Tara Knowles.

Apparently sensing his presence, she looks up. "Hi, Baby." Patting the seat next to her, she beams him the smile that never fails to make his pulse race. "Come join us, Daddy."

Happy to oblige, Jax walks over to them. "Hey, little man." He drops a soft kiss on Abel's head before planting a longer, wetter kiss to Tara's lips. Sitting down, he gathers them both in his arms, inhaling the floral scent of her hair as she leans against him.

"I hate to tell you this, Jax. But I think I'm in love with another man." She giggles as Abel clasps her finger in his tight grip and waves it around like a prize banner.

Jax grins as his son tries - repeatedly and unsuccessfully - to shove both his fist and his prize into his small, toothless mouth. "Looks like the feeling's mutual. My boy has great taste in women." He strokes her hair, brushes it aside and presses soft kisses to her neck and shoulder; smiling as she shivers in response, goose bumps prickling her soft skin.

She giggles again – god, he loves that sound. "He looks so much like you. But then sometimes…" She drifts into silence as she gazes down at the baby in her arms.

"What?" he prods softly, rubbing her shoulder.

"Sometimes…He reminds me of Tommy."

Jax closes his eyes and hugs her tighter. He'd wondered whether she'd notice the resemblance between Abel and Tommy; only someone who'd been tight with his little brother would recognize it – and until now, only Gemma had commented on the likeness.

Back when Tommy was alive, he'd often hear people say that he and his little brother could be twins, despite the age difference. And sure, they'd shared the same coloring, the same features, the same ability to charm the shit out of anyone; they'd also shared the same congenital heart defect, which manifested so differently in each of them. Unlike Jax - whose robust health fueled his brash, devil-may-care swagger - Tommy had been quiet and cautious, always observing and assessing. However, despite his fragile condition (or because of it – Jax could never tell), Tommy wore a stamp of steadfast determination that surpassed everyone in a family of stubborn Tellers. Anyone could tell from the resolute gleam in his little brother's eyes or the firm set to his jaw when he'd locked in on something that he wanted. Back then, Jax had often thought it was funny that Tommy looked so much like him but acted so much like Tara.

And although Abel's only a few months old, Jax knows that his baby son possesses his late brother's quiet, yet strong-willed disposition. Both Tommy and Abel had come into this world dealt with a shitty hand; sadly Tommy had to fold too soon, but Abel's still fighting – thanks to Tara.

When she'd first come back to town, he'd been so happy, so proud to hear that she'd accomplished her dream of becoming a doctor. But when she'd told him about her goal to be a pediatric heart surgeon, his own heart had swelled to near bursting because he knew without asking what drove that particular ambition. When recalling some of his best childhood memories, there was always Opie by his side and Tommy holding Tara's hand. And when remembering one of his worst days ever, the day they'd buried Tommy, Tara had been there, her one good hand gripping his. _"If I had a time machine, I would go into the future and become a doctor…then I would come back and save him."_

"Yeah, he does," Jax whispers softly against her ear, a lump in his throat that he tries to dissolve with a chuckle. "And if I'm not careful, you'll wind up liking him more than me, too."

* * *

><p>He marvels at how his life's flipped a hundred and eighty degrees. Before, the Club had given him an escape from all the shit in his personal life, especially during his marriage-from-hell with Wendy. Now, Tara and Abel provide his haven from the shit storm threatening to blow his Club apart.<p>

His relationship with Clay had been rocky for months, but then finding out that Clay had ordered a hit on Opie, which resulted in Donna's brutal murder – well sometimes it takes all of his self-control not to lunge across the table and beat the living shit out of his step-father. Caught in the middle are his other Brothers, who probably think that his problem with Clay stems from impatience on his part to take the gavel. Only Tig and Piney know the truth behind the rift, but he knows they'll both keep silent: Tig's not only the murdering trigger-man, but he's also got his nose jammed so far up Clay's ass, he can't sneeze without the Prez's permission; as for Piney, although the old man's rage towards Clay is palpable, he loves his son too much to reveal the truth that would crush Opie.

So with dangerous tensions escalating within SAMCRO every day, being with the two people he loves the most provides sorely needed comfort. However, the one thing that grates on him is that, even though Tara spends nearly every night with him, she's still living at her old man's house. He tells himself that he doesn't like that she's there alone given what happened with Kohn, but he also knows he's full of shit; in truth, he wants her living in his house with him and Abel. He'd suggested that she move in with them after missing her like hell when a staggering workload kept her from him for nearly a week; she'd promised to think about it, but it's been a few days since he asked so he's starting to get anxious.

Certainly he understands her hesitation; months ago when they'd first reconnected, he'd told her that – while the crazy intensity of his love for her hadn't changed since high school – they couldn't afford to have the same obsessive relationship. After she'd decided to stay in Charming, they'd agreed to build their new relationship slowly in order to focus on immediate priorities given everything on his plate with Abel and the Club as well as her busy, growing career at the hospital. Not to mention, he knows she's still struggling to come to terms with SAMCRO back in her life, especially since he'd promised her total disclosure this time around.

However, the flimsy thread holding on to his patience snaps when she tells him that she has to attend a hospital fundraiser that'll end too late for her to come over tonight so as to not risk waking Abel. He understands she has to attend these things as St. Thomas needs all the cash it can get; it'd just be easier to take if he knew she'd be coming home to him instead of making him wait another full day to see her.

Sitting on her front stoop, he takes another swig of his beer then lights another cigarette. The last time he'd sat here waiting for her to get home, he'd been a fucking mess thinking that she'd only come back so he could rid her of Kohn. Well that bastard's long gone, but here he is, still stewing over the one girl who could always tie him in knots. It's crazy because he knows she loves him, knows that she's making compromises to be with him – accepting the truths about the Club, trying to get along with Gemma, becoming a mother to a child he'd had with another woman. However, loving her now seems to come with a measure of fear; now that he knows what it's like to live without her, he also knows he couldn't do it again.

He stubs out his cigarette as she pulls into the driveway, shielding his eyes from the headlights until she turns off the car. "Jax? What's wrong? Has anything happened to Abel?" She slams the car door and rushes towards him; he starts to answer, but his jaw drops open instead. For most of his life, he's believed Tara Knowles to be the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen – yet sometimes she still manages to blow him away. Dressed in a sleeveless little black dress that hugs her perfect curves and accentuates those sleek long legs, she looks elegant and sexy and too fucking gorgeous for this world.

Jax tries to collect his scattered thoughts, not an easy feat when she sits next to him and squeezes his knee. "What is it, Baby?" Those concerned green eyes scan his face. "Where's Abel?"

"Home. Neeta's with him." He watches as she relaxes and sighs with her relief, her hand sliding from his knee. He picks it up and kisses her fingers. "Tara, I asked you to come live with us days ago. You still haven't given me an answer. I thought we were going to try and make this work; are you having second thoughts?"

She closes her eyes briefly, as if gathering resolve to unload her troubles. When she opens them, there's a grimness that alarms him. "Jax, there's something I need to tell you. I couldn't give you an answer about moving in with you until I did." He tightens his grip on her hand; she'd better not be thinking of running again - there's really no way he'd be able to let her go.

She stares down at their entwined hands. "When I told you all those things about me and Kohn, there's one thing I left out. After I ended things with him, I found out that I was pregnant... At first I didn't know what to do. But then… I told you that Joshua got violent and put me in the hospital when I wouldn't take him back. After I was discharged, I got more than a restraining order… I got an abortion." Looking up, she searches his face warily for reaction; her green eyes wet and stormy from the reliving the horror.

For the first time, Jax wishes Kohn were still alive - so he could slowly slice that goddamn bastard into pieces, hear him scream in agony for days – no, weeks - before sending the motherfucker off to burn in hell. Jax fucking, fucking hates the idea that goddamn piece of shit ever even touched his girl; now knowing that she'd gotten pregnant by the son-of-a-bitch spikes his rage to a whole new level of burning hate…Fuck, if Kohn were alive, Jax would cut off the bastard's dick and jam it down his fucking throat until he slowly choked to death.

"Jax?" A soft voice snaps him out of his fury-fueled reverie. As the red rage clouding his vision recedes – her pale, worried face comes into view. Shit, he hopes she hasn't read his silence or the murder in eyes as anger directed at her. Hauling her into his arms, he strokes her hair over and over until he feels her relax against him. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that, Babe. I won't let anyone ever hurt you again, Tara. Ever again."

She looks up at him. "To be honest, I wasn't sure whether to tell you about this or not. But if I move in with you, I don't want any secrets between us."

He scowls. "_'If'_?"

She smiles and corrects herself. "_When_ I move in…"

His rage drains away as he returns her smile with a broad grin. "I'll help you move your stuff first thing in the morning." He places a finger on her lips in case she tries to protest. "No arguments, Tara. Abel and I aren't waiting any longer; it's been too long as it is."

"Ok, Baby." She snuggles against him, framing his face in her soft hands before melting his brain with a slow kiss.

He runs his hands across the silky fabric of her dress, sliding his hand under the hem to stroke her thigh. "You wearing anything under this dress, Babe?"

"Do you want me to answer that?" She licks his lips. "Or do you want to find out for yourself?"

Chuckling, he stands and helps her to her feet. His eyes drift over to her dad's old Cutlass, smirking as he remembers some amazing things they'd done in that car. "How long's it been since we've spent quality time in the back of the Cutlass?"

"Are you serious?" She giggles as he climbs into the back seat and tugs her in with him.

"Shut the door, Babe." His fingers find the zipper at the back of her dress and starts sliding it down. "Unless you want the neighbors to hear you. Again."

* * *

><p>Asking her to move in might be his best idea ever.<p>

Yes, he loves seeing her every day, spending more time with her, knowing that they're headed for something more – something that he's wanted since high school. But watching her work out in the backyard, well that's a hell of a perk he hadn't ever imagined.

Knowing that she had the day off, he'd come home early, hoping to spend some time alone with her before Neeta left for the day. But although her car's in the driveway, the house feels and sounds empty; a quick scan of the rooms tells him that no one's home. However his disappointment disappears as he catches a glimpse of her from their bedroom window.

Lying on a blanket in their backyard, she's dressed in a tank top and a pair of those form fitting calf-length pants that she often wears to bed. Transfixed, he watches her perform a series of acrobatic stretches that prompt his mouth to drop open, his eyes to glaze over and his dick to swell against his fly.

Snapping out of his trance, he practically sprints out the patio door so he can join her. She smiles and stands when she spots him striding towards her. "Hi, Baby. You're home early. Neeta took Abel to the park so I'd have time for a work out." She must've read the heat in his eyes and/or saw his dick tenting his jeans because her welcoming smile turns sultry, impish. He doesn't respond, just pulls her into his arms and devours her mouth.

"Let's go inside," he growls, grabbing her hand to drag her to the door.

"I have a better idea." She twines her arms around his neck. "Have you ever tried yoga?" Grinning at his appalled expression, she leads him to her blanket. "I think you might like it." Before he can protest, she slides his cut off his shoulders and pulls his shirt over his head. "Yoga's good for reducing stress." Her fingers massage the tendons in his neck, drawing a low moan from him. "It's also good for improving heart function." Her hands slide down to rub his chest. "But first…" She unbuckles his belt and opens his fly. "You need to be dressed more comfortably." Directing him to lie down on the blanket, she pulls off his shoes and jeans, leaving him in his boxers. Outside in the backyard. Thankfully he'd built that high wooden fence after that fucking nutcase Kohn broke into his house.

She positions him so that he's flat on his back, then moves to lie directly on top of him. Pressing her lower body tightly against his, she arches her back and straightens her arms on either side of his shoulders, giving him a mouth-watering view of her cleavage and stiff nipples poking through her tank top. "This is the Cobra pose. It promotes flexibility in the spine and opens up the chest."

He's about to suggest that she open her chest some more and take off her top when she lifts her hand to grab her right leg, grinding her crotch against his. "Oh shit, Tara," he gasps, trying to control himself. As much as he wants to drive his dick inside her right now, he's loving this and dying to see what she'll do next.

"This is the Half Frog pose – it opens up the chest and thighs." She rubs her thigh against his straining cock and smiles as he moans again. "And the groin area."

Lifting her arms and legs, she hovers directly above him. Even though they're not touching, this position doesn't seem to ease the pressure off his dick. "Four-Limbed Staff pose," she whispers in his ear, licks his neck and drags her hard nipples across his chest. He grits his teeth while his fingers clutch and twist the blanket under him; fighting like hell not to come in his boxers.

Dropping back onto him, she rolls them over so that he's now on top, cradled between her open thighs. She draws up both her legs, spreading them wider so that she's got one foot in each hand. "And finally, we have the Happy Baby pose." She arches up to stroke herself against his swollen cock. "Does this make you happy…Baby?"

Jax manages a strangled laugh a millisecond before his control snaps, and he's tearing off his boxers and her yoga pants. "Fuck, Tara, fuck..." He spreads her wide then rams his cock deep, deep inside her as his tongue plunders her mouth. Tara's hands are all over him; running through his hair, squeezing his arms, kneading his sweat drenched back. He pumps faster and faster, roused into a frenzy as her strong fingers squeeze his flexing ass, pressing his balls tight against her soaking wet mound.

"Harder, Baby," she moans against his ear, rubbing her breasts against him. "Fuck me, harder." He lifts her right leg, bending it back towards her so he can slam against her clit with thrust after thrust. "Jax, oh god, Jax." He swallows her scream with a bruising kiss as a violent orgasm erupts, engulfing them both in its fiery blast.

Breathing hard, he looks down at her flushed and gorgeous face, his whole body still buzzing. "I can't believe you lured me to have sex in the backyard." He pecks at her rosy, swollen lips.

She finger-combs his damp hair. "And you hated every minute of it, I could tell." She gives his ass a firm squeeze. "We should get dressed before Neeta gets an eyeful."

"Yeah," he agrees but doesn't move, doesn't pull out; preferring to rain wet kisses down her neck. "But you have to promise to include me in all your future yoga workouts. I'm all for reducing stress and improving heart function."

"You got it, Baby." Her legs wrap tightly around his waist, trapping his dick inside of her. "You might be interested to know that yoga means 'to join.'" She pulls his head down for a scorching kiss while her inner walls pulse against his cock until he's rock hard and dying to fuck her again.

Yes, definitely his best idea ever.

* * *

><p>They'd probably give him a shitload of hurt for saying it, but Tara and his mom are more alike than they'd ever agree to admit: smart, driven, fiercely protective and stubborn as fucking hell. He loves those qualities in both of them (most of the time), but he's also pretty sure that he could point to those same attributes as reasons why the two most important women in his life have never gotten along (a fucking understatement if there ever was one).<p>

Back in high school, Gemma hadn't approved of the obsessive intensity of their relationship and worried that Tara would distract him from SAMCRO. But he suspected Tara's greatest sin in his mother's eyes was that she didn't live in fear or in awe of Gemma like all the other Old Ladies and croweaters. Tara didn't give a shit about SAMCRO or Gemma's status as Queen, and to his mother, that had been unforgiveable. He'd kept them apart as much as he could, making sure there'd never be a reason for Tara to be alone with his mother – not because he didn't think that she could hold her own; on the contrary, she's probably the only person he knew who could take on Gemma Teller-Morrow. However, Tara had to suffer enough abuse from her asshole old man, he'd be damned if she had to put up with his mother's bullshit, too.

After he and Tara got back together he'd warned Gemma to leave her alone, not wanting his mother to say or do any shit that might send Tara running from him. However, he also knew keeping them apart wouldn't be possible this time around - not given each woman's attachment to Abel or Tara's growing involvement with the Club. But surprisingly, despite a rocky start, it seems that both women have put their differences behind them. Maybe his mother appreciates Tara's role in saving Abel's life or what she's done to help the Club and Gemma, herself, after her car crash. Maybe, in wanting to claim her place in his life, Tara realizes how much SAMCRO's Queen could help guide a VP's Old Lady. In any event, despite all the bad history, the two of them have actually grown close in the past couple of months.

Although he enjoys watching this new friendship grow, happy to no longer have to play referee between them – he can't help but feel a little uneasy. After so much coldness and mistrust - it's a little hard to believe that Tara and his mom could bond this tightly, almost out of the blue; some shit must've happened between them, and it's like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But it's not another shoe that drops; it's a goddamn, fucking anvil.

His mother was gang-raped by those shit-sucking Nazi bastards. He can't shake the burning anger – not as he sews the SAMCRO patches back onto his cut, not as he rocks his son to sleep and makes peace with Clay. More than anything, he wants to escape on his Harley; tearing through the dark, empty California freeways at a hundred miles an hour, he could momentarily forget his rage, forget the image of his mother's haunted face. Instead, he sits in his backyard, chugging Jack directly from the bottle as he stares into the darkness; he can't leave Tara and Abel unprotected now that he knows the depths that fucking Zobelle would sink to force SAMCRO's capitulation. Jesus Christ, what if those animals had gone after Tara, too? He can't go there…fuck, his head would explode from the pain of just thinking about it.

"Hey." She sits next to him on the cold ground, pulls the bottle of Jack out of his hand and takes a swig. He opens his mouth to tell her that it's late, that she should go to bed and get some rest after such a shitty day; then snaps it shut, hell, he wants her to stay, needs her to stay. No matter what, she's always been the one to soothe the hurt inside him.

"You know, when we were growing up, I always thought you and Tommy were the luckiest kids I knew - having two parents who loved you so much." She takes another drink then hands the bottle back to him. "To be honest, I don't remember JT as much because he traveled a lot, but Gemma... I always wished my mother was more like her."

Stunned, Jax turns to her to stare at her. "Seriously?"

Smiling faintly, Tara stares into space, recalling the distant memories. "Yeah, seriously. Everyone could see that she really, really adored you and Tommy. She was so involved in your lives."

Funny, back then, he'd always thought Gemma was too involved, too protective. That's why he had to escape to Opie's as much as he did; he'd needed the space. Searching his own recollections, he realizes that he doesn't have that many memories of Tara's mom. Granted they'd both been pretty young when she'd died, but even before that, he can't remember Grace Knowles in any setting except at the Knowles' house or at the gas station where she'd worked. In all of his early memories of Tara, when she didn't have Tommy or Hale hanging on her, she was alone. He picks up her hand and squeezes it.

She leans her head against his shoulder. "In elementary school, I always thought it was great that - even though your birthday was in the summer - she'd still bake birthday cupcakes for you to bring for the class on the first day. I told myself that if I ever had a kid whose birthday was in the summer, I'd do that too."

"Do you remember…" She giggles and looks up at him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "In third grade, you and Opie got in trouble for putting all those snails in the teacher's lounge? Mr. Johnson couldn't prove it but blamed you guys because he said the two of you and both your dads were 'hooligans' – seriously, he called you 'hooligans'. I thought Gemma was going to rip his toupee off and make him eat it."

Jax can't help but laugh out loud. The horrified look on all the teachers' faces when they saw the dozens of slimy snails crawling all over the tables, chairs and the sandwiches in the faculty fridge – it was worth getting grounded for two weeks. Of course he and Opie totally did it – it took them hours to collect all those snails from their respective backyards - and Gemma knew it. His mom just hated the pompous asshole school principal and the fact he always assumed the worst of Jax, even though thinking the worst was usually justified.

"You mom always protected you then, and still does now. She didn't want you going to war with Zobelle; definitely not blinded by revenge because that's what he wanted, which means he'd be ready with a plan to hurt you – maybe even kill you." She frames his face in her soft hands as those beautiful green eyes gaze steadily into his. "Good parents protect their children, Jax. They do anything and everything to keep them safe from all the horrible things in this world. I…I didn't have that. But knowing your mother, I know that's the way it's supposed to be."

For the first time since Gemma dropped her bombshell, he feels himself start to calm, feels something burn in his heart besides murderous fury. "Thank you," he whispers – knowing those puny words weren't enough, would never be enough to express how much it means to him - what she did for his mother, for Abel, for the Club, for him.

"You don't ever have to thank me, Jax." She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "I love you."

"I love you more." He drops a soft kiss on her lips before pulling her into his arms and burying his face into her shoulder.

* * *

><p>Given the circumstances, he should feel a little ridiculous walking into the shop.<p>

His family's in lock down at the Clubhouse, he and his Brothers are just a few hours away from a fight to the death with Weston and his little army of racist pricks. But here he is walking into the tiny jewelry shop, the echoes of the conversation with Tara ringing in his mind.

"_At some point, playing house isn't going to be enough…"  
><em>"_I wouldn't have told you all the shit that I have, if I didn't think this was moving towards something more…"_

Jax's wanted to marry her since high school; now more than ever before. But so much shit's been thrown at them in the past couple of months - he'd been so distracted by the rift with Clay, the tension with Opie, getting Caracara off the ground, ATF back in town, not to mention the goddamn havoc Zobelle's stirred up since he set his fucking foot in Charming - there's just never been a good time to think it through.

He first saw the ring a few weeks ago when he'd gone into the shop to buy her a necklace. The diamonds set off by the platinum band had snagged his attention right away; simple, yet beautiful - just like Tara - and with enough flash to be worthy of her. The shop clerk had noticed him staring at the ring in the display and asked if he'd like a closer look. Jax had hesitated then shook his head; he'd left the shop with her necklace in hand but her ring in mind. He couldn't ask her to marry him yet; not when he had to focus on the looming Club vote that would, no doubt, be the final straw to break any remaining familial bond he had with Clay and set the stage for moving SAMCRO towards his father's – his real father's - vision.

Not that his situation's that much improved now; he's about to go fight a race war, for fuck's sake. But at least he and Clay and his Brothers have settled all their differences; SAMCRO's united again. They just had one more thing to do: kill Zobelle, Weston and every one of those skinhead fuckers. Tonight, they'll send those bastards to hell; then in a few days, he'll take Tara away to their special place and put that ring on her finger.

He brushes the diamonds slowly with his thumb, admiring the simple beauty of the design – it's perfect for her. The ring costs a hell of a lot, much more than he could really afford to spend given the financial setbacks they'd had with losing the Irish pipeline to Zobelle and then Caracara burning down. But Tara's the best thing that's ever happened to him, she deserves the absolute best he can give her.

"Whatcha got there, Jackie Boy?"

Startled, he drops the ring but catches it before it crashes to the counter, much to the shop clerk's relief. He hands the ring back to the man and whirls around to face a smiling Chibs. What the fuck's he doing here?

"Thought I'd get something for Kerrianne before Fi heads back," Chibs answers, reading the questioning look on Jax's face. "Let's see what you picked out for our lovely Doc." Chibs strides over to join him at the counter and peers down at the ring in the clerk's hand. "Ooh, it's beautiful, Jackie. So you're ready then?" He pounds Jax's back affectionately.

Before he can answer, both of their cell phones start ringing. Jax flips open his phone, watching as Chibs does the same. It's Opie. Time to go, Opie tells him; Lin and Laroy want to meet now before tonight's festivities. Apparently Chibs is getting the same message from another Brother as he hangs up and gestures that he'll be waiting for Jax outside.

"Sorry, man," Jax apologizes to the clerk. "I'll be back later."

Little does he know that he never does come back for that ring.

* * *

><p>The dream's always the same.<p>

_He's got the ring in his pocket. Finally, finally after all these years he's going to slide his ring on to her finger and then the world will know what he's always known – that Tara Knowles, the most beautiful girl in the world, belongs to him, has always belonged to him, will always belong to him. But even though her car's in the driveway, the house is quiet. Too quiet._

"_Babe?"_

_There's no answer. He smiles thinking that maybe she's in the backyard doing yoga again; he could propose to her while she spreads herself atop him. But the backyard's empty, the bedrooms are empty. Where could she be? He heads to the kitchen; maybe she's left him a note that she's taken Abel to the store or to the park._

_He's never liked the color red; too bright, too severe – the color of the bad shit in his world: stop signs, flashing cop lights, anger, rage…blood. There's too much red in his kitchen; streaks of it spattered all over the counters and walls, an ocean of it spilled across the floor. A bright, steady stream of it continues to gush out of the small body lying face up in the center of the room, mingling with swirls of dark brown hair. He screams her name as he runs to her, staining his white shoes dark red as he falls to his knees beside her. Jesus Christ, this can't be happening, not after he finally has her back, not when he can finally give her the family she's always wanted. But there's no mistaking that beautiful face, no mistaking those mossy green eyes; those eyes - that had glowed with so much love for him just a few hours before - now stare sightless and vacant in death._

"_NO, FUCK, NO! NOOOO!"_

"Jax, wake up! Wake up!" Soft hands shake him gently, then try to soothe him as his eyes fly open. "It's just a dream, Baby. Just a dream."

Gasping for breath, he bolts upright; swiveling franticly to scan his surroundings. He's in their bedroom, in their bed while Tara watches him anxiously. Yanking her towards him, his eyes scour her to assure himself that she's really there – alive and whole.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She runs her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, brushing it away from his wet face. Instead of answering, he releases her and buries his face in his hands, trying to calm the fierce pounding in his chest and erase that terrifying vision from his mind.

Ever since Cameron Hayes kidnapped Abel, Jax's every thought's been centered on finding his son. Except when he closes his eyes to sleep, he's tortured with the same dream, night after night; that it wasn't Half Sack who that Irish bastard stabbed to death before taking Abel, but Tara.

Still shaking from his nightmare, he pulls himself out of bed and starts getting dressed. He needs to get to the Clubhouse to start another day of searching for leads and for devising ways to earn money to finance that search. Fuck, it's a good thing he didn't buy Tara that ring. Not only does he need every dime he has to find Abel, but he can't saddle her to him – not now, maybe not ever.

"Please, Baby. Talk to me…"

He hesitates, then looks into her pleading, pain-filled eyes. He knows she's hurting, too; that she feels responsible for allowing Hayes to kidnap Abel and thinks he blames her for not doing more to stop it. Moreover, he also knows that she's still reeling from Hale's death. She'd put on a stoic front at his funeral, dutifully commiserating with Jacob and the other members of the Hale family. But hours later when he'd realized she was missing, he'd tore through the town in a panic only to find her back at the cemetery, sobbing in front of her old friend's grave.

"Jax, please…" She walks over to him, placing her hand on his arm. "Please tell me. What do you want me to do? How can I help you?"

The last time she'd asked him those same questions, he'd answered by practically begging her not to go anywhere; now he's so goddamn torn. She's too good for his world, a world where innocents become victims in the deadly crossfire between SAMCRO and too many enemies; the very idea that she could suffer the same fate as Donna or Sack paralyzes him with fear he's never known before. He knows the right thing is to tell her – again – that she needs to leave him, leave Charming before he costs her the career she'd worked so hard to achieve, or worse - so much goddamn fucking worse - before he gets her killed. But he can't bring himself to say the words or do what needs to be done and end it with her. Despite knowing that it's wrong to continue exposing her to the dangers of his world, he still can't help but feel that her place is with him; he really can't be alive without her.

But he doesn't tell her any of those things; instead he mumbles that he has to go and takes off, feeling her hurt and frustrated gaze on him as he leaves. Should be par for the course for her; back in high school, she'd complained to him, more than once, about his infuriating habit of avoiding conversations he didn't want to have or shutting people out when faced with emotions he couldn't handle. Hell, it's the story of his life with her – when he'd first realized his intense physical attraction to her, his initial solution was to avoid her because he didn't know what to do about it; he'd sidestepped all conversations about her need to leave Charming because he didn't know how to stop it from happening.

And now, he avoids telling her that he doesn't blame her for Abel's kidnapping, that he's just haunted by the fact that her involvement with him could end her medical career – he knows how important that is to her, hell she'd left him to pursue that dream. She hadn't wanted to wind up broken and empty like her mother; well he doesn't want that for her either, and that's what could happen if she stays with him. Or she could wind up dead, as his nightmares brutally remind him. _"I wouldn't want to live in a world if you're not in it_," she'd told him the day she'd left him; well that goes both ways, her death would kill him, too.

* * *

><p>After meeting at the hospital with Clay and Oswald to arrange transport to Belfast, he heads to Tara's office to tell her that the sheriffs raided the Clubhouse so her doctor friend must've ratted on them about the illegal scrips. He stops short when he sees her talking to Margaret and a young couple. Apparently she'd recently saved the couple's newborn son, Lucas; even from a distance, he can see and hear the couple's heartfelt gratitude. The woman dressed in a hospital gown, whom he assumes to be the mother, cries as she rubs Tara's arm, repeating "Thank you" over and over.<p>

Tara saves lives, he takes them – that's what he'd told Clay; why he didn't want her involved in their illegal business. Abel, this other baby boy and countless others – they all might've died if it weren't for Tara. If she loses her license because of him, what happens to the next Abel, the next Lucas? He watches as Tara beams happily at both parents, accepts the hugs and handshakes then waves goodbye as they leave with Margaret. This is the life she should be living - one that makes her happy, keeps her safe. Not patching up bullet wounds at the Clubhouse or sneaking around black market clinics selling illegal prescription drugs.

"Jax?" Her happy smile dims, her forehead wrinkles questioningly as she spots him walking grimly towards her. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?"

He stops in front of her and gazes down at the beautiful face he's loved pretty much his entire life – first as a friend, then as a soul mate. Jesus Christ, how in fucking hell does he do this? Life without her had been hell on earth; then the fates had granted him a gift by bringing her back into his life – it was his chance to change the direction his life had taken. But somehow, he's managed to fuck up so much that he can't remember when things were this bad; his baby son was kidnapped by a goddamn Irish terrorist, for fuck's sake.

Terrible things happen to people who touch his world; he couldn't bear it if Tara got hurt, too. He'd do anything in his power to keep that from happening, which is what he has to do now. It's killing him inside, but he's got to let her go.

"We need to talk," he tells her quietly, letting her walk past him into her office before he closes the door.

* * *

><p>They should've been celebrating during the trip back to Charming. Jax's got Abel, his precious baby boy, back - alive and mercifully unharmed, despite all the bloody shit that went down in Belfast. And SAMCRO's got a potential lucrative new deal with the Irish if they're able to hunt down Jimmy. But there aren't any smiles or laughter on the long flight back home, not after hearing the news from Tig that Salazar's kidnapped Tara. With Abel in his arms, he sits away from the rest of the group; knowing that he's not in any mood for conversation, his Brothers and even Gemma wisely leave him alone.<p>

Three days; that motherfucking prick's had her for three days. Consumed by fear and rage, Jax can barely breathe; the pressure in his chest's so tight and so painful, it's like he'll explode at any minute. He can't sleep either; he'd nodded off once only to wake up screaming again – terrifying Abel and shocking the shit out of Gemma and Brothers. In that dream, Tara had been crying out to him for help as Salazar dragged her away, but he couldn't get to her, couldn't see past a thick gray fog. All he could do was run blindly through the fog in a panic, helpless to do anything but listen to her beg Salazar not to hurt her baby then scream in pain over and over. Then the fog lifts, revealing the vision of Tara from his old nightmare, lying dead and bloody on their kitchen floor. Fuck no, sleep's not an escape from fear, from pain, from guilt.

He'd stupidly believed that if he pushed her away then his life couldn't taint her. Instead what he'd done was leave her alone and unprotected…and pregnant. He tries to calm down by telling himself that Salazar's a worthless pussy; however, he can't help but think that could make the bastard even more dangerous to Tara and their baby. The fucker would have no problem hurting her; he'd be too dumb to think about potential ramifications, of what Jax would do to him. And because Salazar's weak, any kind of pressure could cause him to panic and just kill Tara and their child inside her before trying to escape to Mexico.

Jax can only hope that Tara, the bravest more brilliant person he knows, can find a way to survive until he finds her. And when he does, well, Salazar will get that trip to hell that he sorely deserves.

"You ok?" Opie breaches the cold, silent wall that Jax's erected around himself since getting on the plane. He hands Jax a beer from the cooler and plops down beside him.

Was he ok? His son's safely tucked in his arms, but the other person he loves most in the world suffers at the mercy of some crazy fucker bent on revenge. And it's all his fault. No, he's not fucking ok.

Opie doesn't wait for an answer. "Tara's always been an ass-kicker. Remember the night we patched in, and she broke that croweater's jaw?" Opie chuckles over a memory that Jax doesn't regard as fondly; he'd nearly lost her that night due to his sheer stupidity. Shit, if he had a dollar for every stupid thing he'd done to risk their relationship, he'd have enough cash to buy her that engagement ring with a few bucks to spare.

"Although my personal favorite Tara Knowles story is…."

"Don't fucking say it," Jax warns, knowing exactly where Opie's going on this trip down memory lane. If his supposed best friend's trying to make him feel better, he's doing a fucking piss-poor job.

"Randy Brewer. You remember that asshat?" Opie pops open his can of beer and grins as Jax glares at him. "Shit, Tara was like Wonder Woman and McGuyver rolled into one that day – she sure saved your ass."

Although it's not exactly one of his favorite memories, Jax feels a tiny smile tug at the corner of his mouth. On his eighth birthday, his parents bought him a new bike, which was promptly stolen when Jax forgot to lock it up at the park. It was clear that the thief was Randy Brewer, a thuggish fourth grader, who liked to bully the younger kids – hell, the asshole blatantly rode Jax's bike to the same park the very next day. Jax hadn't wanted to tell his parents that he'd lost his new bike, but instead of listening to Tara that they needed a plan, he'd jumped the kid who was more than twice his size. Not the best decision as he wound up flat on his back about to get the shit pounded out of him when…nothing, just a spray of really salty water dripped on to his face. Apparently Tara had filled a giant squirt gun with salt water - using an entire canister of salt, judging by the awful taste - and was blasting steady streams into Randy's face. Taking advantage of the bike thief's incapacity, Jax had scrambled to his feet, ready to punch the jerk then realized it wasn't necessary; Randy was already on his knees crying from all the salt water stinging his eyes, begging Tara to stop. But necessary or not, no one fucked with Jax Teller and he cuffed Randy on the head before heading over to reclaim his bike. On the way, he nearly tripped over Opie, who had been rolling on the ground, doubled up with laughter. Shithead.

"Tara brought fucking bad ass Randy Brewer to his knees. A stupid pussy like Salazar doesn't stand a chance against her." With that, Opie gets up and walks back over to sit with the rest of his Brothers, leaving Jax to his thoughts.

Although he's still going out of his mind with fear, rage and guilt - Opie's point hits home, and his crippling worry for her eases just a tiny bit. Tara's a fighter, a survivor who's already overcome a lot of nasty shit - too much, in his opinion - a physically and verbally abusive father, a violent psychotic boyfriend, not to mention all the shit she's seen because of him. It's more horror than most people see in a lifetime, but with each bout of adversity, she seems to grow stronger, more determined, not just to survive, but to succeed.

He hears a soft gurgle and looks down at his son; Abel's awake and scanning his surroundings, his blue eyes intent as if he's searching for something. Maybe his son's thinking of the same beautiful, dark-haired woman consuming his old man's thoughts. "Don't worry, little man," Jax assures his son, kissing him on the forehead. "We'll get her back soon; we'll be a family again, I promise."


	9. You're Part of What I Am

**AN: Apologies for the long delay in updating. Busy time at work, and I had originally intended this chapter to include Jax's 14 months in Stockton. But the chapter started getting too long and taking too long to write so I decided to split into two chapters. **

**As for this chapter, I've always felt KS screwed up the timing around S3 - too much time in Ireland, leaving the last two episodes feeling really rushed. Because really, I'm sure we all agree that there's no way the smart Tara he created would've taken Jax back that quickly after all the shit he put her through. Asshole. If I were writing an AU, I would've made him suffer much, much more; however, since I'm trying to keep as close to the show as possible, this is the best I can do.**

**Chapter 8: ****You're Part of What I Am…You Always Have Been**

"_How long are you going to let those bikers stay here like this?" Patterson overhears one of the doctors ask Margaret Murphy. Several SAMCRO members had been camped in the hospital waiting room since Jax Teller was admitted three days ago. It's not the first time Patterson's heard hospital staffers ask their boss that question, but St. Thomas' Head Administrator continues to let the men stay, answering that same question with the same response, "For as long as they need to stay. If you have a problem with that, then file a complaint." _

_The woman's tolerance of the disheveled crew surprises Patterson; it's clear from the loathing in her eyes when she looks at them that Murphy harbors no love whatsoever for the MC – and especially not for their leader or his mother. There's no mistaking the intense hate that flashes across her face when she stops in front of Teller's ICU room and observes the biker king lying comatose in one of her hospital beds with the motorcycle matriarch holding his hand._

"_Mrs. Murphy, can I have a minute?" Patterson knows that the woman had been very close to Dr. Knowles, so she finds it curious that the woman bears such enmity for her late friend's husband and mother-in-law. Very curious._

"_Of course. How can I help you, Ms. Patterson?" Her frigid tone and air of animosity belie the polite response._

"_I'd like to ask you some questions about Dr. Knowles. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?" The cold glare on Murphy's face tells Patterson that the woman includes her with all the people to be hated for hurting her friend. How much did Murphy know about Tara's last days? Patterson's intel showed that she had left with her family for an extended vacation; the news of Tara's death must have cut that short._

_Murphy hesitates then nods. "Please follow me."_

_Patterson falls in step with the woman, feeling the hostility emanating from her in waves. "Tell me, Mrs. Murphy, why are you allowing the hospital's waiting room to turn into a de facto Clubhouse for SAMCRO? I didn't get the impression that you necessarily approved of Dr. Knowles' involvement with her husband's MC."_

_They stop in front of the closed door to Tara's old office; her nameplate "Tara Knowles, MD" still prominently displayed. "They're no different from other visitors concerned for a critically ill patient," she explains blandly, then opens the door to reveal a sight that shocks them both: one of the Sons – Bobby Munson – sitting on the floor, head in hands as he shakes with sobs._

_Murphy shuts the door quickly, quietly before Munson notices them. "And Tara wouldn't have wanted Jax to be alone."_

* * *

><p>Since donning his Prospect cut at sixteen, Jax's faced-down a countless number of vicious and violent fuckers who've posed threats to his Club, his family, his life. He'd be a liar if he didn't admit feeling a measure of fear during those confrontations; however, no one in that horde of killers, crooked law enforcement, terrorists and other assorted psychos ever scared him more than a small, beautiful brunette with haunting mossy green eyes. No one else could tie him into knots, no one else could drive him to his knees. Just Tara.<p>

She's always been a part of his life; he can't remember a time when she hadn't been a friend, when he hadn't felt a warm affection for the quietly brilliant girl with a dazzling smile. But when that friendly affection began to evolve into feelings more powerful, more intense than he'd ever known before, he'd fought like hell to resist. Even as a dumb fifteen-year-old, he was smart enough to recognize how easily she could grow into the biggest and best part of him - she'd been planting her seeds inside of him since they were little kids. At the time, it'd scared the shit out of him to give someone so much power over him, to center so much of his happiness on one person. And as his love for her grew, so did the fear of losing her – especially after knowing the hell that life could be without her.

And now, once again his future hangs in the balance, once again contingent on Tara forgiving him for hurting her with his idiocy. In the years that they've known each other, he's done a lot of really stupid shit to shake her faith in him; however, all of those past sins dwarf in comparison to the bullshit and betrayal he'd forced her to endure in the wake of Abel's kidnapping. It terrifies him that he's gone too far this time, that she might not take him back no matter how fucking sorry he is.

After getting stitches on his forehead and his arm, Jax tears through the St. Thomas hallways looking for Tara. The ambulance had already taken her away by the time he emerged from Hale's office so he's anxious to see for himself that she and their baby are okay, to see if the two of them would ever be okay again. Working his charm on one of the nurses, he learns that Tara had gone into the chapel to wait for her doctor to arrive. He races there - breaking a personal best speed record - then pauses at the chapel door to take a deep breath. So goddamn much at stake - for him, for Abel, for their unborn baby; all depend on what he's able to say to her in the next few minutes.

He should be exhausted given the physical and emotional toll of worrying about her, searching for her, confronting Salazar and then gutting that fucking piece of shit. Hell, his heart had nearly given out, not once but twice, when faced with losing her and his baby inside of her. He'd nearly lost his shit in front of his Brothers, Alvarez and the Mayan crew when he saw the dead brunette lying under the blood-soaked blanket and again as he watched in horror when Salazar pressed a knife against her throat, knowing that one flick of that fucker's wrist would not only end Tara and their baby but Jax as well. He'd never survive losing her. But too much fear and nervous energy chase away any fatigue he should be feeling, spiking his adrenaline levels to the point he needs to force himself to calm down.

"Hey." He slides into the seat next to her, feigning casualness to mask the rapid pounding in his chest. "You okay?" His eyes greedily drink in the sight of her, slowly scanning for any injuries he might've missed seeing in Hale's office. More than anything he wants to pull her into his arms, squeeze tight and never let go; however, he senses that would be a tactical error, judging from the way she shifts slightly on the bench to avoid touching him.

She remains silent, staring down at her hands. Jax swallows, feeling his taut nerves twisting into knots; is she not answering him because there's something's wrong with her or the baby? Or does she really, truly hate him now? He couldn't bear any of those things to be true. "Tara, please, tell me that bastard didn't hurt you or…."

"I'm fine," she finally replies, still refusing to look at him. He hopes like hell that covers both her and the baby, but before he can probe, she continues, "Opie told me that you brought Abel back. Thank god…He's okay, right? You got him checked by the pediatrician?"

"He's great," Jax assures her. "Tough little man. He's with Gemma now; we can go see him when we're done here," he offers, deliberately implying that they'd leave the hospital together. They'd go to Gemma's, pick up Abel, then he'd take his family home.

His offer's met with more silence so he grasps for something else to make her speak to him. "When did you talk to Opie?" He wonders if she knows how much of a fucking emotional wreck he's been, courtesy of his best friend. Although she could probably tell just by looking at his face. If only she would look at him.

"He rode here in the ambulance with me…I told him that I was fine, that he should go home and see Kenny and Ellie." Jax silently thanks Opie for being there for her while he chased after Salazar; there's no way he could've let that fucking piece of shit live after what he did to Tara.

She finally glances up to assess the cut on his forehead where Salazar had bashed him with a gun. Jax tries not flinch at the emptiness in her eyes. "What about you? Salazar hit you pretty hard; you should get checked for a concussion." She frowns when she notices his other bandage. "What happened to your arm?"

The pressure in his chest eases a tiny bit as he takes comfort in the fact that she's still concerned about him; if she hated him, she wouldn't give a shit if Salazar cracked his head open or cut his arm off with that axe. "Doc said I'm all good. It'd take something a lot harder than that little love tap to penetrate my hard head. As for this…" He raises his injured arm, "…just a few stitches. It's nothing. The important thing is that crazy Mexican prick won't be hurting you again, Babe."

She stiffens at the endearment and looks back down at her hands. "Thank you for coming for me."

Goddamn it, he's done with the stilted politeness; they need to have a real fucking conversation - one where she vents her fury and hurt, then tells him what he needs to do to get her back. And he'll do any and every fucking thing she needs him to do; whatever it takes to pull his family back together. "You don't ever have to thank me," he echoes the words she'd said to him just a few weeks ago. "I love you, Tara."

He gets his wish, or at least part of it; her head snaps up, and she nails him with a frosty green glare. "Don't go there, Jax. I'm not some goddamn toy you can toss aside then pick back up when you're ready to play again. You're 'done,' remember?"

"What I remember is Donna with her head nearly blown off, Luanne beaten to death and my mother gang-raped by a bunch of Nazi pricks. I also remember being scared shitless after you called me to tell me that Gemma went after Zobelle's daughter, hearing you scream and the line go dead. And I remember coming home to find Abel gone, Sack bleeding out on the floor and you tied up. That bastard could've killed you, too." He shudders, feeling sick from the horrifying memory. "I thought I had to get you away from me before you got hurt or killed. But I was wrong, Babe, really fucking wrong. You belong with me, Tara. We're supposed to be together. I just didn't think it through…"

She raises a brow. "Really? Because that's actually what you said to me right after Cameron took Abel. That you 'didn't think it through' when you wanted me to be part of your life. That I should've gone back to Chicago. Which is it, Jax?" She shakes her head, no longer looking at him, but staring straight ahead. "In a couple of days or weeks when you change your mind again, will you claim you weren't thinking clearly today because you got knocked in the head?"

Shit. He's always been turned on by her quick brain - except when she uses it against him; he can't fucking compete. "Look Tara, I'm sorry; I totally fucked up. I know I've got no right to ask you for another chance, but I'm asking anyway." He grips her shoulders gently, forcing her to look at him. "I won't be changing my mind, Babe. Not now, not ever. I love you. I'll always love you."

"Stop!" She jerks away from him, scrambling out of the pew. "Stop saying that to me. It's a damn lie." Momentarily stunned by her reaction, Jax watches as she rushes for the chapel door, wiping away tears with the backs of her hands. He flashes back to that day from hell when she'd caught him with the porn slut; he'd come home that afternoon to find her packing her bag to leave him. It'd been what he'd wanted at the time - to use the deal breaker to push her away so she'd leave him and be safe. He just wasn't prepared for the fucking pain that hacked away at him as he watched his plan work so perfectly; hell, he'd actually caved - chasing after her to beg for forgiveness, for her to stay with him. But she'd already pulled out of the driveway and, knowing that he needed to meet his Brothers for their trip to Belfast, he didn't try to stop her. In retrospect, he should've jumped on her goddamn car to keep her from leaving him.

Well he's not letting her get away from him again. Leaping out of the pew, he races after her. "Tara, wait." He reaches her in front of the door and grabs her arm to turn her around and face him. "Please don't run." He relaxes his grip on her arm but doesn't let go. "It's no lie, Babe. I love you; I've always loved you. Just because I'm a fucking idiot sometimes doesn't change that."

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, forcing more tears to spill. "No, Jax. If you loved me, you wouldn't have fucked that disgusting slut – especially not after I told you how much it would kill me if you were sleeping with other women." She wrenches her arm away from his grasp and nails him with angry green eyes still wet with tears. "So either you deliberately tried to hurt me or you were so eager to screw that bitch that you jumped in bed with her the minute you dumped me. Or was it both? Killing two birds with one fuck?"

He thinks about reminding her of the truth that he'd blurted out months ago when faced with losing her again; that since his sixteenth birthday, all the sex he's ever had has been with her – either in the flesh or in his mind as he fucked some surrogate for her. However, he's pretty sure that might hurt more than help his case. Jesus, he really must've been out of his goddamn mind to think fucking Ima was the best way to get Tara to leave him. Opie had called it a Dick Move - a complete fucking understatement if there ever was one - and despite Opie's mild tone, Jax could tell his best friend had wanted to beat the shit out of him for hurting Tara like that. The only thing that saved him from a serious beat down was Opie's belief that Jax wasn't in his right mind since Abel's kidnapping. Well his fucking head's on straight now, ready to battle the smartest person he knows.

"Sometimes you have to hurt people you love in order to do the right thing. And I really thought I was doing the right thing, Tara. The fucked-up route we were going… being with me could've cost you your medical career, could've cost your life. I couldn't let that happen, Babe. I had to get you away from me." He wipes a tear from her cheek with his thumb, then curls his hand against her neck. "You told me once that you'd die if anything happened to me. Well, that goes for me, too. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you - especially because of me."

She looks away, as she always does to organize her thoughts. "But nothing's changed, Jax. You're not leaving SAMCRO, all the stuff in your life's still the same. If it was so bad for me to be with you then, how is it ok now?"

He takes her hand and leads her to sit down on the bench. "When we got to Ireland, I found out that the people who had Abel put him up for adoption." She gasps, covering her mouth in shock. Despite her anger with him, he can see the compassion in her eyes. "I tracked down the adoptive parents so I could get Abel back, but when I saw him with them - looking like a normal family… I let him go, Tara. Just like with you, I thought he'd be safer, better off, away from me…" He winces at the memory, the desolation he'd felt sitting at the mall contemplating his empty life, his bleak future without the two people he loved the most. He feels the soft touch of her fingers brush his hand, igniting a faint spark of hope inside him for the first time since walking into the room. "But he wasn't safe. Someone killed the couple who adopted him and used Abel as a fucking bargaining chip to get what he wanted." Jax watches her expression shift from sympathy to horror and clasps her hand. "I've learned that the best way to keep Abel safe is to keep him with me. He belongs with me. And with you. We're his real parents."

Jax lifts her hand to his mouth to kiss her palm, encouraged when she doesn't yank it away. "When I got Abel back, I realized that it's the same thing with you. That the best way to keep you to keep you safe is for you to be with me – because no one could ever love you more than I do, Tara."

He feels her anger wavering and goes in for the kill. Just like Tara's always been his kryptonite - there's absolutely nothing in this fucking world he won't do for her - she's also got a weak spot, one that he knows well. He's an asshole to use it, but when fighting for his life - and his children's - nothing's off limits; he'll play dirty if it means getting her back.

"There's something I haven't told you yet. We've got our hearing the day after tomorrow. Most likely we'll be sent to Stockton to serve some time." He grips her hand tighter and stares intently into those green eyes. "I'd like for Abel to stay with you – if you'll have him."

"Jax…" she whispers as tears start welling again; she looks down at his hand squeezing hers. "What about Gemma? Or Wendy? Won't they have something to say about that?"

He shakes his head. "Gemma's got her own legal problems; not sure yet what's going to happen with her. And Wendy…" He snorts derisively; once it was clear to her that he wanted Tara, Wendy had bolted right after signing over full custody of Abel to him. "She's got no interest in being a mother; it would interfere with getting high."

Gently, he lifts her chin so she's facing him once again. "You're the only mother he knows, Babe." Despite the uncertainty in her eyes, he knows how badly she wants this; Tara's meant to be a mother - he saw it years ago with Tommy then with Abel. And soon there'll be another baby - the baby he's wanted to have with her for so long.

"I want us to be a family, Tara. More than anything. I want my son to have the best mother a kid could have, and…" He moves his other hand to rest lightly on her stomach. "I want my other baby to grow up knowing his old man." Her eyes narrow as she recoils from him, inhaling sharply.

Undeterred, he strokes her hair then cups her face; his other hand still holding hers tightly. Then he presses hard on her lifelong weak spot - the lonely girl desperate for family - drawing from memories of little Tara whose parents never attended any school functions, whose mother never baked cupcakes for her birthday, whose father either ignored or abused her. "Our kids should grow up with both their parents who love them. It'll be just like the family we planned years ago. Please, Babe…" His fingers caress her soft cheek. "Please give me another chance; give us another chance. I promise I won't fuck up again. I love you, Tara. And I need you so much; I'm no fucking good without you."

She closes her eyes; the tears that had been welling in them spill down her cheeks. He holds his breath, anxiety coursing through every cell in his body. Sighing heavily, she lifts those thick black lashes. "Goddamn it, Jax. You're such a total asshole sometimes." Apparently she's seen through his underhanded tactics, no surprise given how well she knows him. But before he can reply, she leans in, kisses him softly then cups his face in her soft hands. "Don't make me regret this. If you ever cheat on me again, we are absolutely done. DONE. I won't go through that again. Do you understand?" He nods eagerly and opens his mouth to swear on a stack of Harley manuals, but she cuts him off. "And you have to promise that you won't shut me out again; no more holding back. If this is going to work, you have to be completely honest with me."

"Anything you want, Babe. I'll do anything to keep us together. We're meant to be together, Tara." He pulls her tight against him and covers her mouth with his, hungrily devouring the sweetness he'd deprived himself of for weeks. Shivering with pleasure as her tongue tangles with his, Jax runs one hand up and down her back while squeezing her breast with the other; Jesus, how the fuck did he think he could live without this? Lost in sensation, he doesn't hear the door open, doesn't realize they're no longer alone until he hears the small voice and feels Tara pull away from him.

"Dr. Knowles?" The young nurse he'd flirted with to locate Tara stands in the doorway. Judging from the blush on her face, she must've standing there for some time watching how much Jax missed his Old Lady. "We're ready for you now."

Tara smiles at her and nods. "Be right there." She turns to Jax. "My doctor's here to give me an ultrasound. I think the baby's fine, but I want to be sure." She stands and holds out her hand to him. "Do you want to see Abel's future brother or sister?"

"Hell, yeah." He grabs her hand and jumps up, but before she can lead him out of the chapel, he frames her face in his hands and presses one more kiss against those pink lips. "I love you, Tara. So fucking much."

* * *

><p>She can't seem to let go of the baby. After getting home from Gemma's, she'd carried a drowsy Abel to his room while Jax remained outside to answer a phone call from Clay. Several long minutes later, he hangs up and goes inside to find her still in Abel's room, standing in front of the crib as she gazes down at his sleeping son cradled in her arms. He savors the sight, one that he didn't think he'd ever see again, and shoots a heartfelt thanks to whatever fates or higher power that allowed him to get his family back.<p>

She must've felt him watching as she glances over her shoulder and flashes him a small smile. Turning back to Abel, she brushes a soft kiss to his head before gently placing the baby into the crib. Then she walks over to him and wraps her arms around his waist, burrowing against his chest as if comforted by the thudding of his heartbeat. Hugging her tight, he kisses the top of her head then buries his face in her shoulder; giving silent thanks again and again that he has her back.

"You hungry?" He asks, brushing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I can make you some dinner." He rubs her shoulders as she shoots him a puzzled look.

"I ate dinner at Gemma's," she reminds him. "With you."

"I know." He can't help himself and rubs her stomach again. "But there's two of you now. And…" He frowns as he contemplates the long months that she'll be taking care of herself and his baby, both of his babies - without him.

"I'm not Wendy, Jax." Correctly reading his worry, she strokes his goatee. "I know how to take care of myself and the baby. We'll be fine."

"No, you're definitely not her," he chuckles then squeezes her tight against him. "Thank god for that." He'd never confuse the love of his life with the biggest mistake of his life; however, he can't help but think about the parallels. The only good thing to come out of his relationship with Wendy had been Abel, and he'd almost fucked that up by abandoning her during the pregnancy. And now, given his impending arrest and lengthy prison stay, he'll be leaving Tara to deal with pregnancy without him as well. Instinctively he knows that, despite the somewhat similar situations, the huge differences between both women should produce vastly different outcomes; while Wendy's pathetically weak and self-centered, Tara's the strongest and most giving person he knows. His baby - both of his babies - will be in good hands with her. But that doesn't stop him from worrying.

"What I need…" She links her hand in his "…is a shower." She flashes him that saucy smile that he'd gone too damn long without seeing and tugs him towards the bathroom.

They undress each other slowly. Despite his eagerness to get her naked, he keeps getting distracted - by those lush pink lips and that nimble tongue, by the velvety shell of her ear and the silky skin of her neck. It's a damn good thing they hadn't turned on the water or it would've been ice cold by the time they stepped into the shower stall. However, after pulling off her shirt, it's like he's been smacked in the face by a vicious spray of that ice water. Rage slashes through him as he stares hard at the large black and purple bruise on stomach, just below her bra - how the fuck had he missed that during her ultrasound? Salazar, that motherfucking piece of shit…. Just like Kohn, Jax sorely regrets killing him too quickly; that goddamn prick didn't suffer enough, not nearly enough.

"Jax..." Tara cups his face in her soft hands, drawing his angry glare away from her bruised stomach to her gently smiling face. "It's ok, Baby. I'm fine, our baby's fine. You saw for yourself."

Closing his eyes, he leans his forehead against hers and tries to temper his fury. "He hurt you, Tara. That bastard fucking hurt you because of me…"

"And because of you, I'm alive and right here." Her thumb softly glides across his lower lip. "Now do you want to keep talking about a dead kidnapper or should we focus on something else?" She reaches between them to massage his balls before grasping his cock, rolling her thumb around and around the plump head until he's rock hard once again.

"Oh fuck, Tara." He answers her question by sucking hard on the base of her neck while sliding his hands under her panties to squeeze her ass. Loving her throaty moans, he pulls down the silky fabric until it slides down her legs then unhooks the front clasp of her bra. This time it's not the bruise that captures his attention. "Holy shit, Babe. Is it my imagination…" He lovingly cups each breast, "…or did these puppies get bigger in the last couple of weeks?"

Rolling her eyes, she reaches into the shower to turn on the water. "'Puppies?' Seriously Teller, sometimes your brain is still in fourth grade. Yes, they're a little bigger. It's common for pregnant…" She gasps with pleasure as he swirls his tongue around a stiff peak while rubbing its twin with his fingers. She tunnels her fingers through his hair while he licks and sucks each nipple then drags him into the shower stall where they proceed to wash every inch of one another.

Kneeling in front of her, he caresses her smooth stomach, planting kiss after kiss on the still-flat surface. "Hang on to me, Babe," he murmurs, draping one long leg over his shoulder, then tilts his head to nuzzle and nibble the soft skin on her inner thighs. Smiling as she grips his hair and moans his name, he sucks on her clit then on each of her plump pink lips, tasting both the soap he'd used to clean her so thoroughly and the hot wetness of her desire. He spreads her apart with his thumbs then thrusts his tongue deep inside of her; relishing her salty-sweet taste, he swirls his tongue, prodding and poking at her ultra-sensitive tissues.

He feels her grip on his hair tighten and hears her breathing grow louder, choppier as it always does when she's ready to come. Sliding his thumb to cover her clit, he rubs hard on the slippery bud - over and over - while he feasts between her legs, tongue-fucking her until she screams his name, screams how much she loves him. Rising to his feet, he grins down at her - loving the sight of her wet, flushed face and heaving breasts. "Hope you didn't wake Abel…or the neighbors."

"Shut up, Teller." She wraps her arms around his neck and melts his brain with a heated kiss while rubbing up against his erection. "Shut up and fuck me again." More than eager to comply, he claims her mouth and pushes her against the slick shower wall. Cupping her ass, he lifts then lowers her onto his stiff cock, moaning loudly as she wraps her legs around his waist and squeezes him tight.

"Oh shit, Tara," he gasps against her mouth, forcing himself to keep still. There's a good chance this could be his last night with her for a long time so he wants to savor it for as long as he can. Staring into her desire darkened eyes - Christ, she so fucking beautiful - he starts pumping, long and slow, drawing out the sensation of his bare dick pulsing against her scorching hot walls. Gasping with pleasure, she closes her eyes and arches her back, pushing her lush breasts against his hungry mouth.

"Definitely bigger," he declares happily. Nuzzling the generous mounds, he suckles each breast slowly, greedily in rhythm with his thrusting cock. "And I think…" he drags his tongue across a thick rosy nipple. "Your nipples might be slightly darker." He lashes her other nipple with his tongue. "But I'll need more research. When we get to bed, I'll fuck you with the lights on."

"Mmmm…sounds good, Baby." She lifts his face away from her breasts, devouring his mouth as she twines her arms around his neck and tightens her legs wrapped around him. Squeezing that perfect ass with both hands, he presses her against him as he drives deep inside of her. Pumping harder and harder, he hears her cry out, feels her short nails digging into his back as she soaks his cock with spasm after spasm of her release. Her orgasm triggers his own; intense waves of ecstasy swamp him as his balls burst, flooding her with jets of hot come.

He doesn't know how long they stand in the shower clasping each other, but suddenly he's aware of the icy spray of water pelting his back and the goose-bumps spreading across her soft skin. She must've noticed at the same time as she shivers then giggles against his chest - how the fuck did he think he could've lived without hearing that beautiful sound, he really must've been insane to let her go.

"Kind of late for a cold shower." She giggles again, lifting her face to render him stupid with that dazzling smile. Turning off the water, she leads him out of the stall. "Besides…" She wraps her arms around him again. "You promised to fuck me in bed with the lights on…"

Jax keeps his promise - a couple of times. Smiling to himself, he watches her sleep - passed out after that vigorous last round. It's been over a decade since high school, but somehow being together turns them both back into those horny teenagers. Despite the number of women he'd fucked, he's certainly never had this kind of stamina with anyone else, although frankly, he'd never needed or wanted it. One and done - except for Tara; with her, he could never get enough - will never get enough. For the millionth time today, he sends a silent thanks that he has her back.

He should probably get some sleep; tomorrow's a big day with so much at stake. If any part of their plan goes wrong, they could all be fucked for life - if not killed by a bunch of feds or crazy Russians. And that can't fucking happen - not after he's finally pulled his family together, not after he's finally going to be a father to the baby he's always wanted with Tara.

However, even if all goes to plan, he'll still be separated from his family as there's no avoiding the time he'll need to serve in Stockton. He burns with fierce resentment over what he'll miss - the time with Tara and his kids, Tara giving birth to his baby, huge milestones in Abel's life, the first few months of his new son's (he's convinced the baby's a boy) life. All because of his loyalty to the Club. Even in the months when he doubted Clay's leadership, he'd never once lost his love for SAMCRO or the desire to fulfill his father's legacy. But now knowing that JT had never wanted this life for him or for Tommy, he can't stop the doubts flowing through him over such staunch allegiance, especially given what it's cost him - and could continue to cost him.

Feeling Tara snuggle closer to him, he pulls her tight against his chest. Brushing the hair from her face, he presses a soft kiss to her forehead, then another and another. "I love you," he whispers hoping that she can somehow hear him in dreamland. "I'll never let you go again."

* * *

><p>He's happy for Opie; happy that his best friend seems to have finally moved on with his life after Donna's murder. After her death, Opie had been so angry, so lost, so guilt-ridden that he couldn't even face his own kids. But now he's found a second chance with Lyla; announcing their engagement during Gemma's welcome home breakfast for Abel.<p>

Yet even though Jax's happy for his Brother, he can't help but wonder how Opie could find love again so soon. During his eleven year separation from Tara, he'd never come even remotely close to falling in love again - not with Wendy, not with anyone. And although Jax couldn't fathom anyone loving anyone as much as he loved Tara, he'd felt Opie had come close with Donna. Hell, their Brothers had a running bet as to which one of them was more pussy-whipped. Opie'd got a shit ton of ribbing back in high school when Donna, the stage manager for every high school play, would enlist her boyfriend's help when they needed set volunteers. Opie working on the sets of _Grease_ and _The Wizard of Oz_ had the long-time members of SAMCRO laughing to this day. However, it's still Jax who still gets the eye rolls and smirks from the guys because, although he and Tara have matured beyond their constant need to be with each other every minute, he still has the same compulsion to call her multiple times a day when they're not together.

He watches Opie and Lyla sitting across the table, basking in the brightness of their shared future, then smiles and turns to Tara who's rocking an exhausted Abel. Pulling her closer to him, he brushes his lips across her forehead.

"Tara, it's a damn good thing you took pity on this asshole and let him back in," Opie informs her while he smirks at Jax. "The last time the two of you broke up, he fucking pined away for _years_. Honestly, sometimes we were minutes away from killing him or ourselves the way he sulked around here like a moody bitch."

"Oh, my poor baby." Tara smiles, stroking his goatee before pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

Jax happily savors the feel of those soft lips on his, before turning to glare at Opie. "Of course she took me back." He blasts Opie with a smug grin. "After all, she's been in love with me since first grade. You did say first grade, right?"

Jax's retaliatory strike produces the desired effect as he feels Tara stiffen next to him then watches in satisfaction as she nails Opie with an icy green glare. "Harry Winston…" she hisses at her old friend who, suddenly, is no longer smiling.

"Your real name's Harry?" Lyla glances up at her fiancé in surprise, renewing Jax's uncertainty about Opie's quick dive back into love and marriage. Lyla didn't know his real first name? What the hell did the two of them talk about? "Not too late to change your mind…" Jax teases, only half-kidding.

Opie beams her a fond smile as he replies, "Family name." He narrows his eyes at Jax before turning an innocent face to Tara. "Don't know what this lying motherfucker's talking about, Tara. But I do remember in first grade, if it wasn't for you, we all would've thought Jax was gay."

Both women burst out laughing. "What?" Tara sputters in amused disbelief, trying not to wake Abel as she shakes with laughter.

"I kissed my first girl in kindergarten. Same with Lowell and all the other guys. But not Jax. He thought girls were gross. Except you." Opie grins broadly as Jax spears him with a glare that promises death. "So we told him that if he didn't kiss a girl soon we were gonna start calling him 'little girly boy.' Which is what he looked like back then, anyway."

"Ope, I think we need to step outside for a minute…" Jax starts cracking his knuckles.

"No way, Baby." Grabbing his hand, Tara instantly deflates his annoyance with that mind-melting smile. "I definitely want to hear all of this…"

Jax rolls his eyes as Opie gleefully (and evilly) recounts the day at school, when Jax and posse had stalked Tara, waiting for the right moment for Jax to pounce. He didn't find his opportunity until afternoon recess when Tara had separated herself from the rest of the class to read a book under a shade tree (she'd been way, way ahead of the class at reading) while the rest of their classmates ran around like, well like noisy first graders. He had walked up to her, heart pounding and palms sweating; when she'd glanced up at him, he'd stared into those pretty green eyes, then grabbed her face and planted a short, hard kiss to her lips. Then he'd whirled around and ran like a man pursued by a nation of flesh-eating zombies; Opie, Lowell and the others hooting and whistling at the proof that Jax Teller was definitely not gay.

"And it had to be Tara." Opie lets them know that Jax hadn't wanted girl germs from _anyone_ else. "I think he was whipped way back then, just won't admit it."

Jax leans back in his chair and shakes his head at his best friend, a wry smile curving his mouth. Opie's the most steadfast, most loyal guy he knows and Jax loves him for it. However, in this case, he knows why Opie divulged this well-kept secret; not in retaliation for Jax's own breach (at least not entirely), but to assure Tara that she made the right decision to forgive Jax. After all these years, Opie knows them both very well, knows that no matter what happens in either of their lives, neither he or Tara could ever be happy without one another. And Opie, finally happy again, wants the same for his two oldest friends.

Meeting Tara's warm green eyes, his pulse kicks up a notch; Jesus, she could always do that to him - even before he fell in love with her. "I was whipped back then," she tells him softly, stroking his face. "I'll admit it." He pulls her and the still-sleeping Abel into his arms, feeding her long, slow kisses - again and again. Burying his face in her hair, once again he feels the pained resentment over the fact that he'll have to leave her and their babies soon. He aches knowing that these last few moments with Tara and Abel could be the last he'll have as a free man for a long time. It shouldn't be like this, he tells himself angrily; it fucking shouldn't be like this. Loyalty to his Club shouldn't have to cost him his family.

His gaze drinks in the sight of his sleeping son - safe at home at last - then slides back up to rest on his Old Lady's beautiful face. Fuck, he could spend the rest of his life just staring at her. "You okay?" she asks, sensing the troubled shift in his mood. "We're going to be fine, Jax." She flashes him the smile that could always melt his insides then tugs on his goatee. "We're meant to be together, Baby. No matter what happens."

"Yeah," he whispers, kissing her again. No, loyalty to his Club shouldn't have to cost him his family. He'll make damn sure of that. He may love his Club, but he loves Tara, loves their family more. If he has to make a choice, he already knows what he'll choose. Come what may.


	10. There's Only One Face I See

**AN: As mentioned, this chapter was originally intended to be part of what's now Chapter 8. But I needed more time with the 14 months in Stockton because I felt there's a lot that had to happen here to lead into the end of Part 1 and seed Part 2 (yes, there will be a Part 2). It's a long chapter, but I couldn't figure out how to break it apart so hope you're okay with that.**

**I've had a hard time trying to figure out how old Abel is at certain points. I know he's eight months old when Cameron Hayes kidnaps him, but I'm really not sure what the time span is between 2x13 and 3x13 so I'm going to assume Abel's nine months old when Jax goes inside. Glad we can do what we want in fanfiction.**

**Finally, full disclosure: Everything I know about prison visitation in California is what I learned watching the "Second Son" appisode. Everything I know about becoming a surgeon, I learned from Google. Apologies if I get anything incorrect.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: <strong>**There's Only One Face I See**

_The conversation with Margaret Murphy proves both enlightening and disappointing at the same time. Mainly the woman confirmed what Patterson already knew: that Tara Knowles was all about family. She'd loved her husband deeply, had loved him for most of her life - but her little boys were her whole world; she would've done absolutely anything for her sons. But when Patterson had pressed her for any insight into the state of the Tellers' marriage, Murphy had clammed up, maintaining she had no knowledge of any turmoil in that relationship. The only strain, Murphy had informed her coldly, was the agonizing worry that Tara had been suffering over her upcoming murder trial and possible prison sentence. If hate-filled looks could kill, Patterson knows she would've been joining Tara and Eli on the coroner's slab. Finally, when she'd asked Murphy about any thoughts or suspicions about who might've harbored such a murderous grudge against her friend, the woman maintained that she didn't know enough about Tara's life outside of the hospital to speculate._

_Patterson doesn't believe Murphy's claims of ignorance for a second. The woman's definitely hiding something - either because she fears retaliation by Teller and SAMCRO or feels some kind of posthumous loyalty to Tara. Or, most likely, both. However, despite the lack of any explicit leads from Murphy, Patterson could glean what she needed, matching it up with what Murphy may not have known or would've admit to knowing. Tara may have been afraid of going to prison, but she was even more afraid of leaving her boys with their father and grandmother._

"_Mrs. Patterson?" She turns around to face a smiling, impeccably dressed dark-haired man. They've never been formally introduced, but she knows very well who he is and why he's here._

"_Hello Mr. Rosen."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Stockton State Penitentiary<strong>_

_Day 1_

Years ago, during his first stretch in Stockton, Jax had a cellmate - an old geezer doing time for check forgery named Ned Pickles (seriously, he couldn't make this shit up if he tried). They got along well enough except at night when the guy would jerk off non-stop for hours. Not only was it hard to get to sleep with all the moaning and groaning and the bunk shaking above him, it was fucking gross. The lone upside was that it kept him from dwelling on Tara; he hadn't wanted his memories of her mingling with the foulness of his reality. Not to mention, he couldn't get an erection if he tried - not with Pickles' juice spurting night after night.

However, that's not the case this go round as now he's considered dangerous enough to warrant his own cell. Lying on his cot, he stares up at the empty walls; walls that he'll eventually cover with photos of Tara and his kids once he starts getting mail. Then the pain he'd been trying to hold at bay consumes him as he's once again bombarded by thoughts and images of all the things he'll be missing with his family. Since the feds hauled him away, all he can see is her beautiful face; all he can think about is her taking care of their kids without him. Opie, Piney and Chibs had promised to watch out for his family - and he knows that they will - but it should be him standing by her side; it should be him taking care of her and their babies.

He hears the guards call for lights out right before they're all plunged into darkness. Closing his eyes, he can see her clearly - vividly recalling all of their last moments together. His hands-down favorite being when she'd enticed him into a short, hot fuck during Gemma's breakfast for Abel. Back in high school when they first hooked-up, she'd surmised that she could probably get him hard anywhere, regardless of the situation. He'd nearly laughed in her face; no shit, you didn't need to be a genius to figure that out given that he was a walking hormone where she was concerned. Instead he pretended indignation and continued to challenge her to find outrageous places to seduce him. Which she always did, blowing his mind each time.

Opening his pants, Jax runs a hand up and down his hardening cock, stopping to fondle his balls like she always did (to his everlasting gratitude, Tara's always had a particular fondness for the crown jewels - zeroing in on the swollen sacs with her fingers or her mouth every time they had sex). Gripping himself tightly, he remembers the bright gleam in her green eyes when she'd approached him as he talked to Opie. They'd been at the breakfast for less than ten minutes when she'd sat down next to him, placed a hand on his thigh and whispered in his ear that breakfast wasn't quite ready and that Gemma and Clay were playing with Abel. He'd flashed a big grin at Opie who'd rolled his eyes, more than used to Jax and Tara's compulsion to fuck each other any time, any place.

_She drags him into the apartment, ripping open his jeans and massaging his dick before he could slam the door shut. "The baby…" he gasps against her mouth - fighting against the impulse to take her roughly against the door. "…will love it," she assures him, sliding his boxers down his ass with one hand and squeezing his balls with the other. "I know I will…" She moans as he cups her breasts and thumbs her stiff nipples. Quickly unbuttoning her blouse, he stares hungrily at the succulent, milky white globes practically spilling out of her lacy black bra. Flashing him that saucy smile, she rubs her thumb across his lips while her other hand glides down her cleavage to rest on the front clasp. "My nipples are more sensitive than usual." She strokes one of the hard peaks poking through the black silk. "I need you to suck them, make me come. Can you do that for me, Baby?"_

_Holy, holy fuck… He closes his eyes to keep them from popping out of his head, then shoves her against the door, stripping off her jeans and underwear while she unfastens her bra so he can feast like a starving man. He licks a plump pink nipple, over and over, while his fingers pluck and stroke its twin. Rolling the swollen bud into his mouth, his tongue lashes the sensitive tip again and again until he hears her choppy breathing grow louder and louder. Cupping her ass, he impales her on his marble-hard cock, moaning loudly against her neck as she wraps her long legs around his waist and clamps his dick like a hot, wet vise. "Oh god, Jax," she pants, squeezing him inside her as he thrusts harder and faster. Arching her back, she rubs her un-licked nipple against his rough beard until he turns his head to swirl his tongue around the rosy crest before sucking hard._

"_Hey you two, breakfast is ready." Opie's voice penetrates from the other side of the door. "Don't think you want Gemma to drag you both out here..."_

_It could've been a mood killer as Tara starts to giggle uncontrollably, causing him to shake with laughter as well. So they're both caught by surprise by the fiery orgasmic blast that engulfs their fused bodies. Burying his face between her breasts, Jax continues to pump furiously between her legs as another surge of ecstasy - even more intense, more mindblowing - swamps him. He hopes those ample mounds can muffle the gasping cries of pleasure that he can't hold back any more than the blistering hot release surging from his balls to flood her again. "Tara, oh shit, Tara…love you so fucking much…"_

"That's really great, Teller. Really romantic. Now shut the hell up. Some of us are trying to sleep…"

Goddamn it. Jax's eyes snap open as he's roughly returned back to his depressing present. Wiping his hand on the sheet, he refastens his pants and turns onto his side. He's survived day one, only 425 more before he can actually make love to her for real. Until then - holy shit - he's going to turn into goddamn Ned Pickles. Fuck.

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 21<span>_

She doesn't recognize him. He'd walked into the visitation room where Tara's sitting at a table bouncing Abel on her lap; she'd looked up instantly but then back down at his son when she didn't see the scruffy, long-haired biker she knew so well. It's not until he starts striding towards her, that she looks up again and surprised recognition dawns on her beautiful face. Rising to her feet with Abel tucked against her side, she practically runs into his open arms. Enveloping both his son and his Old Lady into a tight embrace, he inhales the fragrance of her hair and sighs happily - so fucking glad to see them, hold them.

It's been three long weeks since he went inside - it'd taken Tara that long to get the visitation application approved for her and Abel - and he'd been slowly going out of his mind missing them. To hang onto his sanity, he'd called home every day and inundated her with long letters detailing how much he loves her and misses her and can't wait to see her again. He knows that his mail could get read by prison officials, but he really doesn't give a shit if they think he's a lovesick pussy. Because frankly, that's what he is.

One good thing to happen during that long wait - Wendy had agreed to sign over her custodial rights of Abel to Tara. He'd been worried that she'd give them a hard time, especially since he'd denied her desire to be a family when he made it more than clear that he wanted Tara. And Tara couldn't believe that Wendy wouldn't fight like hell to keep Abel. But to his and Tara's surprise and relief, Wendy didn't put up a single argument, not one bit of resistance when Lowen contacted her with the request. Rather, she signed the papers as quickly as they were presented to her. So just like that, his baby boy now has the best, most perfect mother Jax could ever hope to give him.

"Hey, Babe." Grinning broadly, he clasps her soft cheeks and kisses her long and hard, unable to get enough of the taste of her. He probably could've kept kissing her for hours if Abel hadn't whimpered in protest at being squashed between his overly amorous parents. Laughing, he lifts his son into his arms and presses kisses to his cheeks and forehead while Tara beams at them indulgently, running her soft hands up and down his back.

Walking over to a table, Jax cradles Abel with one arm leaving his other hand free to caress her bare arm, loving the feel of her soft skin. Sitting down at the table, he curls a hand around her neck and claims her mouth again, kissing her until the need for air breaks them apart. Then his eyes drift down, instantly drawn to her even deeper cleavage and even plumper breasts peaking above her camisole. Holy shit, he never thought the most perfect rack in the world could get even more drool-worthy. He feels his mouth watering and dick hardening as he imagines cupping all that fullness in his hands; kissing and sucking those thick, rosy nipples. Or better yet, sliding his cock between those lush mounds like she's let him do on more than a few occasions…

"Eyes up, Teller," her laughing voice shakes him out of his near-wide-awake-wet-dream. "We've got an audience." His head snaps up, twisting to see the guards watching him closely then back to his son, who's regarding him curiously, and his Old Lady shaking her head in amused exasperation. "They're getting bigger - for the baby. Am I going to have to start wearing potato sacks when I visit?"

"Hell no, Babe. Just appreciating the view." He leans in to peck her on the lips. "You know that I've been obsessed with those puppies since I was fourteen." Staring into the beloved face that's haunted his thoughts and dreams non-stop for the past three weeks, he strokes her cheek. "God, you're so beautiful."

She giggles then pulls off his skullcap so she can run her fingers through his short, buzzed hair. "I look the same, Baby. Just a little fatter. But you...You said that you cut your hair, but it's all gone…"

They'd cut his hair his first day inside and once a week ever since. Unlike his Brothers who refused to get haircuts despite the warden's rules, Jax wasn't risking a goddamn thing that could keep him from walking out of Stockton in 14 months; he didn't give a fuck if they shaved his whole body bald. All he'd wanted was a cap so he wouldn't look like one of those Aryan Brotherhood assholes. Clay had arranged protection with Brown and Black, and he didn't need his cropped blond hair making them think he was one of those racist pricks.

"You don't like my respectable look?" he teases, brushing his thumb across her plump lower lip, still swollen and wet from his kisses. He couldn't stop touching her if his life depended on it.

"Actually, I like it a lot; I just don't think I've seen you with hair this short since…well since you started growing hair." She strokes his clipped goatee. "Just don't ever shave this…" She brushes her lips across his stubbly cheek. "You know how much I love how your beard tickles me... All of me."

Groaning, he tilts his head to claim her lips with his. "I'll keep that in mind…"

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 27<span>_

He doesn't ever remember hurting this much - not with physical pain anyway. He's taken his share of emotional beatings that have hurt far worse: when Tommy and JT died, when Tara left Charming - forcing him to live without her for 11 years, when both Abel and Tara got kidnapped. But holy fuck, this is as close as he's ever come to that kind of pain; even the tiniest of movements - like blinking or breathing - spread scalding fire through his whole body.

He barely remembers what happened; just that he'd been waiting in the pay phone line so he could call Tara - then he'd been attacked by some fucking Russian prick. How long ago was that? Has anyone told Tara? He was supposed to call her; was she worried when he didn't? Someone needs to tell Tara, he can't have her worried; it could be bad for her and the baby…

"I'm right here, Baby." He hears Tara's voice penetrate his pain-filled haze, feels her soft hands gripping his. Only a dream, he tells himself, must be a dream; after all, he hasn't stopped dreaming about her since he got here. Just the other night he'd dreamed about the first time they'd gone skinny-dipping in the lake at their special place. The water had been fucking cold at first, but she'd heated him up quickly - once again proving her point that she could make him hard anywhere.

"Well you must be feeling better if you're thinking about sex, Teller." She sounds so real, maybe he's not dreaming, maybe she's really here…He forces his eyes open, hoping with everything he has that the blurry figure standing by his bedside is really her. "Tara?" he whispers, wincing at the pain in his chest as he tries to shift and get a better view. "How…?"

"Yes, it's me, Baby. Don't try to move." She moves into focus and strokes his cheek. "I pulled some strings to get in here. You gave us all a huge scare, but the doctor says you should be fine. So just do what he tells you, okay?" She squeezes his hand tighter. "I love you so much, Jax."

"…love you more…" Suddenly he's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open, but he's got to tell her this one thing before she vanishes like she does in all his dreams. "Tara…?"

"What, Baby? Tell me what you need."

"Wanna go…skinny-dipping…."

* * *

><p>They're going to keep him in the infirmary for a few weeks to make sure his wound heals properly and won't rip open once he gets back to gen pop. At least that's what the prison doctor tells him, but he also knows that Tara would take a scalpel to the man if he releases Jax any earlier. Somehow she's managed to obtain "visiting physician" status, enabling her to return to the infirmary every day while Jax's in critical condition. During his bouts of consciousness, he can hear her whispering to him: telling him that he would be on his feet soon, that Abel can't wait to see his daddy, that all his Brothers are pulling for him. And she tells him that she loves him - over and over - while her soft, magical hands squeeze his fingers and stroke his face. "…love you, Baby. So much, so much…"<p>

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 49<span>_

He may not have died from the shivving, but fuck, sometimes he wonders if the pain will ever go away. That Russian shitbag buried his blade deep, and sometimes Jax can still feel the cold metal slicing through him. Soon, he promises himself, soon he'll get a chance to repay the favor and, unlike him, the motherfucker won't be walking away. However, retaliation's the last thing on his mind right now; no, right now, all of his concern's centered on his Old Lady.

He's been worried sick about her for weeks. Although she'll always be more beautiful than anything in the world to him, Jax isn't blind to the strain pinching her elegant features, the dark circles under her eyes or the weariness weighing down her usual litheness. Coping alone with pregnancy while parenting an increasingly active toddler on top of a busy career, not to mention constantly worrying about him - she's carrying way too much on those delicate shoulders, and it's fucking killing him to be stuck in here completely unable to help her.

He doesn't know what "strings" she'd pulled to gain entry into the prison infirmary; when he'd asked, she made some vague comment about asking a friend with connections for a favor then changed the subject when he'd tried to probe. Assuming the 'friend' was another doctor, he worries about what she'll need to do to repay the favor – based on what he's seen of her hospital life, returning favors usually means taking on more shifts or volunteering at clinics. Spare time he knows she doesn't have, unless she gives up eating and sleeping altogether. Which is not going to fucking happen; even if it means dispatching one of his Brothers to "help" Margaret Murphy with the rotation schedule.

Jax knows that since he's gone inside, she's been covering all of his bills on top of her own - not a small feat. In addition to regular household and childcare costs, she's also been paying Abel's medical expenses, which includes the significant amount still owed from his extended time in the NICU as well recurring charges from his ongoing doctor visits and medication. People think doctors make a lot of money - he's sure a lot of them do; however, Tara's still in her residency - a low paying residency at St. Redneck's to boot - so she's had to work a lot of double shifts at the hospital to make ends meet. At first, he'd grudgingly accepted the fact she had to do this; the search for Abel had pretty much wiped him out financially. But now that his share from the new Irish deal has started to kick in, he'd instructed Opie to turn all of it over to her. He'd hit the roof earlier this week during a call with Opie, who told him that she'd refused to touch a dime.

"You've got to take the money, Tara." It's their first visit outside of the infirmary, and after smothering her and Abel with tight hugs and wet kisses, he'd pounced.

"Jax…" She walks past him and starts laying out Abel's coloring book and crayons on the table. "I don't need it."

"Oh really?" He sits with his son in his lap, struggling with his temper as he stares at her - she looks even paler and thinner and more fragile than he'd ever seen her before. "How many hours did you work this week? Do you even sleep or eat any more? This can't be good for you or the baby. Goddamn it, Tara. This has to fucking stop."

"Is that your way of saying I look like shit?" She shoots him a wry smile. "The baby and I are fine, Jax. I'm just still dealing with morning sickness, but it'll pass. How are you feeling? It's your first week out of the infirmary and…"

He clamps his hand on her knee and shakes his head; no fucking way will he let her change the subject. "Babe, no more goddamn double shifts. Take the money from Opie. You have to let me do what I can to take care of our family, Tara. It makes me fucking crazy to be stuck in here doing nothing while you're practically killing yourself."

She laces her fingers through his then brings his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his fingers. "You're such a macho man, Teller." She smiles at him as he scowls at her. "Seriously, I'd never do anything to endanger our baby; I know how to take care of myself. Besides, Opie, Margaret and my doctor are watching me like hawks - I stub my toe and they're all over me. We're fine, Baby. Don't worry. You should have that money when you get out." He starts to protest, but she places her fingers on his lips. "I'm not putting in all the hours at hospital just for the money, Jax. I've got a chance to finish my residency and take my board exams before I go on maternity leave. If I can do that, then when I go back to work, I'll be a board certified surgeon. Margaret said that they've already got a job for me."

The glowing happiness on her face and gleam of pride in those green eyes diffuse his anger. "That's fantastic, Babe." Brushing his fingers across her soft cheeks, he stares at her in wonder. "You really amaze me." He's so fucking proud of her: the little girl from such humble beginnings who'd more or less raised herself, who'd left Charming with nothing and no one, who's now a few short months from realizing the dream she'd worked so hard to achieve.

But that said…he still wants her to have his money. He needs her so damn much; he has to know that she needs him for something, too. "I do need you, Baby." She assures him, correctly reading the insecurity he can't bring himself to voice out loud. "I need you to stay safe and come back to us whole. Until then, I'll take care of our family." She pulls off his cap and runs her fingers through his buzzed hair while his hands caress her belly. "It's the least thing I can do. After all you've saved my life three times now."

Kohn. Salazar. He's drawing a blank at the third, which has to be fucking impossible - he can replay every second of the crippling anxiety and rage he's felt any time she's been in danger. Watching him frown as he searches his memory, she flashes him an impish grin. "I can't believe you forgot about The Bee." Tossing her head back, she laughs as a flush starts to creep up his neck and heat his face.

"Shit." He grimaces at the memory. "You really need to forget about that." Instead, she laughs even harder, forcing him to finally crack up as well.

"Baby, I would never want to forget. Who knew fourth grade health class and The Discovery Channel could be such life savers?" They had a classmate with peanut allergies so their teacher felt the need to explain how deadly certain allergies could be if proper attention wasn't given, going so far as to tell them about her younger sister who'd died from a bee sting. Since Jax had been deathly afraid of bees at the time, the story had scared the shit out of him. Especially a few days later while he, Opie, Tommy and Tara were hanging out in the Winston backyard, a particularly large bee stung Tara on the neck when she'd tried to swat it away from Tommy. Jax had freaked out when he saw the wriggling insect stuck against Tara's skin, which was turning red from the venom. His panic had distressed Tommy, who started crying hysterically believing that Tara was going to drop dead any second. However, Opie, who'd just watched some survival show on The Discovery Channel, informed them that he could save her by sucking the poison out – like the survival people did with snakebites. He'd been about to do just that, when Jax shoved his best friend out of the way, determined to save her himself. Piney had walked out the patio door a few minutes later to see Tara lying on the ground while Jax did his best Dracula imitation on her neck and Opie and Tommy hovering anxiously above them.

"_What the hell…" Jax can't tell if Piney's laughing or pissed; he's too busy trying to get Tara's skin back to its normal color, which doesn't seem to be happening no matter how hard he tries to suck the poison out of her neck._

"_Jax's trying to save me, Mr. Winston." Tara informs him then turns to scowl at her savior. "Ow, Jackson! That hurts more than the bee did!"_

"_Uh huh." Piney takes one more look at them, shakes his head then goes back inside, grumbling something about needing to talk to JT._

"My hero." Tara leans over and brushes her lips against his. "I will always need you. Always, Baby."

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 77<span>_

He can't stop touching her swollen belly, rubbing and stroking the hard mound sheltering his baby. It constantly amazes him, the many changes he notices every week she comes to visit. He didn't think it was humanly possible, but she's even more beautiful now than ever before. There's an even brighter radiance to her porcelain skin, to those green eyes. He's always had a hard time keeping his eyes off her; it's damn near impossible now.

"I got news about the baby's gender," Tara informs him while he nuzzles her neck and continues to caress her stomach. "Do you want to know?"

"I already know," he lifts her hand to his mouth to kiss her fingers. "I told you months ago; we're going to have another son."

Cupping his cheeks in her soft hands, she grins at him. "Well, in this case, you're right, Daddy." Reaching into her back pocket, she pulls out the latest sonogram and hands it to him. "There he is. If you look closely, you can see what he inherited from you, although just a bit smaller."

"Excuse me? You obviously need a reminder." Feigning offended outrage, he looks around for guards or any possible voyeurs then pulls her hand down to rest on his crotch. "It's more than just a 'bit smaller,' Babe. That's like comparing a baby lizard to a goddamn T-Rex."

She bursts out laughing; the sound of it music to his ears. Patting her stomach, he peers at the photo of his tiny son. Fuck, he wishes he could've been there with her when she got the sonogram taken, when she officially found out their son's gender – more than anything in the goddamn world, he wishes he could be with her and Abel every day, instead of just these weekly visits. He wants to see and touch the daily changes to her body, to watch Abel grow. And the more time he spends away from them, the deeper his resentment and his disillusionment grow. He loves his Brothers, but it's because of the stupid and reckless retaliation done in the name of The Club, he's stuck in here away from his family.

"So I was thinking…" She caresses his hands resting on her belly, her green eyes intent on his. "What do you think about naming him Thomas? After his uncle."

Grinning broadly, he presses a series of soft kisses on her pink lips. "Thomas. That's perfect, Babe. Tommy would've loved it." And at that moment, the newest member of the Teller family decides to weigh in as well; Jax's eyes widen as he feels the tremors against his hands. His baby just kicked him! Gazing into Tara's gorgeous smiling face, he honestly doesn't think it's possible to love anyone more.

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 91<span>_

"My baby…" Sitting between his daddy's legs on the bench, Abel places his small hands next to Jax's on Tara's belly; neither of them seem to be able to stop touching the precious baby bump, especially since the fetal Thomas Teller always greets them with the enthusiasm of a World Cup soccer team.

Smiling down at his son, Jax can't believe how much his baby boy's grown. A week ago, Abel had stunned him into tears by calling him "Daddy" and then today, he choked up again while watching his baby boy take a few stumbling steps towards him. It seems that neither the fucked-up circumstances surrounding Abel's birth nor kidnapping have affected his learning capacity. In fact, Tara had told him that, even though he's a quiet kid, Abel's actually above average for talking compared to babies his age. Somehow that doesn't surprise him, given all the time he spends with the smartest person in town.

Jax looks up to see Tara frowning, her eyes staring off into the distance as if contemplating the answers to the problems of the universe with that powerful brain. "What's wrong, Babe?" Rubbing her thigh, his concern mounts by the second. Although the glow of healthy pregnancy has since replaced the ghostly pallor, he can still see her exhaustion; she's still working too much and still not using any of his money.

She turns her troubled green gaze on him. "I can't decide if we need a c-l-o-w-n." Last week, she'd told him that she wanted to throw Abel a birthday party to celebrate the momentous event of their baby boy turning a year old; he'd encouraged the idea, although it pained him to know that he wouldn't be there. It's hard to believe that in a few days, Abel will turn one. Hard to believe, that just a year ago, Tara had come roaring back into his life - bringing love and miracles with her; certainly Abel wouldn't be sitting here today if she hadn't been around to save him.

He nearly laughs out loud that she's seriously worried about entertainment for Abel's birthday party; most likely, all the attendees will be Club members who'll just want beer, whiskey and a stripper with a huge tits to jump out of the cake. But - to his surprise - his smart, confident Tara is actually nervous about throwing a one-year-old's birthday party. Apparently in addition to him, she'd consulted with Gemma, all of her co-workers at the hospital, some of his Brothers with kids and done research online on how to throw a toddler party.

"I just don't want to screw this up for him, Jax," she frets. "Birthdays are a big deal, and this is a really big one."

"Tara, he's going to be a year old," he tries to re-assure her, squeezing her hand. "He's not going to remember any of it. Do you remember your birthday party when you were a year old? I sure as hell don't. Although from the pictures, it looked like a rockin' good time."

She looks down at their entwined fingers. "I never had any birthday parties," she reminds him quietly. "Dad, said we couldn't afford them." Fuck, sometime today he's going to get one of his Brothers to kick him in the ass. Back in grade school there was always some shithead who'd tease her for being the kid who never had a birthday party or whose house Santa and the Easter Bunny often skipped. Hell, it's amazing how much you can still viciously hate a dead person; if he hadn't been locked-up, Jax probably would've set Frank Knowles' grave on fire.

Leaning forward, he cups her face and plants slow, lingering kisses to her pink lips. "I'm sure he's going to love anything you put together for him. He thinks his Mom walks on water." That's certainly true; it's obvious how much Abel adores her - Jax can't help but notice how much his son's eyes light up when he looks at Tara, how he can't be separated from his mother too long before demanding to be held by her or crawling onto her lap. It's like watching flashbacks of how Tommy had been with her so many years ago.

"You'll do great, Babe. You always do." He strokes her soft cheeks with his thumbs. "Although lose the c-l-o-w-n. Way too creepy."

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 126<span>_

"I've been thinking about my mom a lot lately." The admission shocks him since Tara rarely talks about her mother, and Jax's never felt comfortable probing. He knows that Tara had loved her mother fiercely, although he has doubts that her love had ever been returned, certainly not to the same extent it had been given.

"Yeah? Why's that?" He pulls her closer, kissing the top of her head. Because of her advancing pregnancy, their visits have been moved into a different room filled with a few old couches where heavily pregnant guests could sit more comfortably (most likely created to avoid potential law suits).

Snuggling against him, she watches Abel diligently fill a coloring book with multicolored scribbles. "Pregnancy isn't for sissies, Teller." She shoots him a quick smile. "But I love it…love the fact that we created him. I love him so much, Jax. And he's not even here yet." She runs her hands across her huge belly. "I just can't imagine what must've been like for her, what must've been going through her mind. Going through all of this when she never wanted to be a mother. Giving up on all her dreams, missing out on all the opportunities she'd wanted for herself. She wanted to be a photojournalist, you know. Travel the world…She left a note for me and dad, but I never got to read it. He tore it up after he read it, then told me it was my fault…"

"Tara…" He doesn't want her dwelling on her fucked-up parents. How those two selfish assholes were able to produce such an amazing and generous kid was a mystery to him. However, what's no mystery is that he's crazy in love with her, that Abel adores her and that soon there'll be another Teller man to fall under her spell. She should focus on that.

"But she wrote me a separate letter; I found it in my backpack after she…" Tara glances at his stunned face before looking back down at her hands; hands he now clasps in his. "I never told you. I never told anyone. She told me that she was sorry that she wasn't a better mother. That the best thing that she could ever do for me was to offer the story of her life as a cautionary tale. It was so sad, Jax. She had such beautiful dreams and so much talent. Did you know she won awards? Dozens of them…She won a scholarship to Northwestern in Chicago, one of the best journalism schools in the country. But then she got knocked up with me…"

As much as he violently hated her old man, Jax's never really given much thought to her mom. But now he wonders if Grace Knowles actually did Tara more harm. "Babe, you have to stop this. You can't blame yourself over…"

"I don't blame myself. That's what she wanted me to know in her letter. That she didn't blame me; that I should never blame myself. That we're responsible for our own choices, even the ones that wind up destroying us. So her advice was to never trust anyone; people will always let you down because they have their own goals and yours will never be the priority. If you want something for yourself, you can only trust yourself to get it done."

His disgust over that "advice" must've been written all over his face because she smiles and strokes his cheek. "She didn't want me to end up like her, Jax. So I followed her advice because I wanted to leave Charming and go to college; have the better life she'd wanted for herself and then for me. But like I told you after Abel was taken and Half Sack was killed, I shouldn't have left." She kisses him softly, looks over at Abel then turns her gaze back to him, green eyes glowing. "Everything I really wanted in life is here, Baby. Right here."

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 134<span>_

He can't get the story of Tara's mom out of his mind. It explained a lot - Tara's fierce independence, how she rarely let people close to her. Too many people in her life had let her down, starting with her worthless parents, some of the kids and at school and people in town who'd been nice to her face then mocked her family behind her back, and that psycho shithead Kohn. But Jax knows he's probably the guiltiest of them all; she'd actually trusted him, and so many times he'd let her down. It's a miracle that she'd taken him back, and he doesn't intend to let her regret it.

But Grace Knowles' letter also made him think of his father's manuscript; how much he'd loved reading about JT's thoughts and original vision for The Club. Although his dad proved to be weak and faithless, the words he'd written had continued to resonate with Jax. And he wants the same for his sons. He wants Abel and Thomas to really know him; wants to give his boys the best advice he could based on the life he's led.

Jax had gone to the guy who could get things for inmates, no doubt shocking the living shit out of the man when he'd ordered a bunch of small journal notebooks and a small pencil. Of course, Jax had also threatened to beat the fucking hell out of him if he ever told anyone.

Staring down at the stack of small notebooks laying on his cot, he picks one and opens to the first blank page. Suddenly he feels like he's back in high school writing papers about he books he'd read. It'd been fucking hard, not because he didn't know what to write, but because he had so many ideas swirling in head that he didn't know how to start. Tara had always told him to organize what he wanted to say, either on paper or in his head (like she did), then string the connected thoughts together to build to the points he wanted to make.

Picking up the pencil, he starts to write...

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 175<span>_

"I think you missed your calling, Baby." Tara tells him as she admires the designs on the paper. He'd been planning to add another tattoo for Thomas once the baby arrived but couldn't decide whether to add it on the right side of his chest or down his left arm. "You could've been an artist." Jax rolls his eyes fondly, only Tara could see him achieving more than he or others thought possible.

"I like this one." She points out the design of Thomas' name, written in calligraphy to match Abel's, running down the back of his left arm. "It's closer to Abel's. And I want them to be close. Like you and Tommy used to be…"

Tightening his arm around her, he kisses those plump pink lips. "You got it, Babe." Unable to help himself, he kisses her again. "So where do we put the one for you?"

Now it's her turn to roll her eyes fondly. It's been a recurring disagreement; he's wanted a tattoo of her since high school, and for some reason she'd always put him off. "I keep telling you, I don't need you to put me in ink. I want to be inside here," she taps his forehead. "And here," her hand splays across his heart. Then looking around for the guards, who seem preoccupied in a conversation, she pats his crotch. "And here." She gives his dick a squeeze. "This is mine. Now if you want to put a tattoo of my face here, I'd be okay with that."

The horror he felt over a fucking tattoo needle anywhere near his most sensitive parts must've been reflected on his face because she bursts into laughter. "Tell you what." She cups his face while her other hand lightly strokes his rock-hard cock. "When you get out of here, I'll tattoo my name on this bad boy…" She leans in to whisper in his ear. "…with my tongue."

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 182<span>_

Jax rushes into the waiting room, eager to see his family, only to stop dead in his tracks. Nothing could sour his good mood faster than seeing his Old Lady's head in another man's lap.

Opie grins at him sheepishly, responding to what must've been a thunderous expression on Jax's face as he takes in the sight of Tara passed out on the couch with a folded sweatshirt on Opie's lap serving as her pillow. Jax's always hated the sight - the very idea - of any man touching Tara, even if that man thinks of her as his sister. And he hates that she's been tiring herself to the point of sleeping like the dead in the middle of the day.

But before he can voice his annoyance, Abel looks up from his coloring book and grins at his dad. "Mommy sleep," he whispers, then puts a chubby finger against his lips. "Shhhh."

"Okay, buddy." Jax scoops him up and, after a few minutes of vigorous hugs and kisses, sets Abel back down to finish his coloring. Turning to Opie, he flashes him a probing look; maybe his best friend can explain why Tara looks more exhausted than usual (which is saying something) and why there's a guilty look on his friend's face. She'd promised him that she's stopped working double shifts, that Margaret wouldn't schedule them for her now even if she asked. So the only thing that could've tired her out so much…He grits his teeth and glares at Opie.

Tara had officially finished her residency a few months ago - far in advance of schedule - and apparently just in time to take the two board exams to certify her officially as a surgeon. He hadn't thought much about it until he she'd told him what those exams entailed. He'd envisioned the hour-long finals that they'd taken in high school and was fucking horrified to learn about the eight hour exam she'd have to take in Sacramento and, if she passed (and there's no doubt she would pass), she'd have to go to San Francisco for a 90 minute oral exam. He'd put his foot down, telling her that she would have to wait until after the baby's birth to take the exams; he didn't want his heavily pregnant Old Lady to go through that kind of strain. She'd tried to reason with him, responding that she'd been preparing for these tests for years so they won't be as stressful as he thinks; that one of the exams is annual so she'd have to wait an entire year to take it if she didn't take it now.

Jax wouldn't budge on his stance, saying that she had to think about her health and their baby now; her career could wait. He doesn't tell her that he's terrified that something could happen to her and/or their baby; she'd only remind him that she's a doctor and knows what she's doing. However, for months he's been going to the prison library to read books about pregnancy so that he could understand all the changes happening to her and their baby. Given all the shit she's been shouldering, Jax had nearly fallen over in his chair when he learned that a mother's stress levels could actually hurt both mother and child. He'd completely freaked out when he read about how some women could develop diabetes or dangerously high blood pressure that could lead to heart attacks or strokes, not to mention some crazy awful blood clots that could be fucking _fatal_ if spread from legs to lungs just by sitting down too long. And she thought she could sit through some fucking eight hour exam? No goddamn fucking way.

"Good to see you, Bro." Opie greets cheerfully, apparently choosing to ignore his friend's unmistakable anger. Jax responds with a curt nod and looks down at Tara; he knows he should just let her continue to sleep peacefully against Opie, but he wants to hold her himself. If she's going to sleep on anyone's lap, it's damn well going to be his. He gathers Tara in his arms, careful not to wake her, then sits down next to Opie with her cradled in his lap. Sweeping her hair from her face, he kisses her forehead, then turns to continue glaring at his friend.

"Tell me that none of you shitheads took her to Sacramento to take some fucking eight hour exam."

Opie shrugs, blinking innocently. "No one took her to Sacramento. We had a run to Oakland to meet with Laroy, and her boss is at a conference."

Jax nods, sighing in relief until he thinks about what Opie just said; Oakland's just across the bay from... "What about San Francisco?"

This time Opie flushes. "Jax, she's worked her ass off to get this far. Her doctor said it would be okay…"

"Goddamn it, Ope…" He struggles to rein in his temper, mindful of Abel happily coloring less than a foot away; San Francisco's the site of the second exam, meaning she'd been going behind his back for at least a couple of months - and Opie helped her. It really pisses him off because if anyone should fucking know what he's going through right now, it should be his best friend. Opie lost the love of his life because of some cruel quirk of fate; he should understand Jax's paralyzing fear of the same.

"Don't blame Opie," a soft voice tickles his ear. "I forced him to drive me."

Jax turns his attention to Tara, ready to read her the fucking riot act for defying him; however, one look at that gorgeous smiling face, those glowing green eyes - and he melts into a goddamn puddle. Christ, is there any man in America more whipped than him? "Oh really?" He brushes a lock of hair from her face, all the irate wind sucked from his sails. He can feel Opie smirking behind him and flips his friend the bird. Asshole.

"I blackmailed him - threatened to undermine his reputation as a bad ass by telling Lyla that he slept with a nightlight for a month after we snuck in to see _The Shining_ at the dollar theatre. And when we went to see _Silence of the Lambs_, his eyes were closed the whole time." She grins fondly at Opie. "Really Jax, he had no choice."

He sighs resignedly and lifts her hand to his mouth for a kiss. "You're a scary woman, Babe. Remind me never to cross you."

"You'd better not. I know even more shit about _you_." Then turning serious, her gaze darts between him and Opie before her green eyes lock onto his. "I got the results from the oral exam this morning." Her fingers stroke his goatee as a luminous smile lights up her face and short-circuits his brain. "I passed, Baby. It's all official. I won't get the actual certificate for a few months, but…" She bites her lip as tears fill her eyes. "I did it, Jax," she whispers as if suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of what she'd finally accomplished after more than a decade of hard work, struggle and sacrifice.

Sliding his hands through her silky hair, he feels his own eyes grow misty as he watches the joy and wonder spread across her beautiful face. "Congratulations, Babe." The words sound so inadequate to his ears given that he's bursting with all the pride and love in the world. Just for her. It must've been enough because she wraps her arms around his neck and blows him away with a blazing hot kiss.

Afterwards, he doesn't know how long he sits there staring at her; it's Opie's amused voice that finally shakes him out of his love-struck daze. "Hey you guys, Abel and I want to join the celebration." Jax tears his gaze away from Tara to look up at his friend towering above them with Abel in his arms. Abel waves happily then reaches for his mom; instead, Opie hands him to Jax and helps Tara to her feet so he can envelop her in a bear hug. "Congrats, Doc," he grins down at her. "Always knew you could do it."

"Well, I do have both of you to thank." She grins at them, extending her hand to Jax, who grips it as he exchanges puzzled looks with Opie.

"I guess you'd be nowhere without my chauffeuring services," Opie mentally pats himself on the back. "But what'd Jax do? All that expert tutoring help he gave you in high school or…?" He can't finish the sentence without cracking up, despite the stink eye that Jax shoots him.

"Well, I got my start with you guys," she tells them. "Crashing your bicycles, falling out of trees, dog bites, rolling around in poison ivy…It's a good thing you both didn't wind up being quadriplegics with rashes and rabies. And I'm still not sure how you both wound up with marbles up your noses." She shakes her head in disbelief at the memory.

"You promised that you'd never tell anyone about that," Opie reminds her. "Doctor/patient confidentiality."

"We were eight," Tara counters. "I don't think doctor/patient applies. But I've never told anyone. And won't tell anyone if you promise we can stop for cheeseburgers on the way home." She pats her swollen belly and smiles at Jax. "He definitely takes after you. All he wants are cheeseburgers and fries."

"If he's anything like Jax, that's not all he wants," Opie teases causing Tara to wrinkle her nose and punch him lightly on the arm. "What?" Opie blinks innocently. "I was talking about chili. You know he always has to drown his burger and fries in chili."

"Right. I'm sure that's exactly what you meant. Maybe you and Lyla should come over for dinner tonight. I can make chili and we can watch _The Shining_ on DVD."

"Oh, very funny…"

Jax sits back with Abel in his arms, smiling as he watches his two oldest friends bicker like siblings. Being with the two of them almost makes him forget the depressing reality of the prison setting and takes him back to those comparatively carefree days of grade school and high school. Opie and Tara - in those days he was always either with one or the other, if not both. Although he's always been aware of how much he loved them; he'd never realized the magnitude of how much he needed them until he'd suffered through life without them. The worst had been the five year stretch while Opie was in Chino and Tara in medical school; although Jax wasn't the self-destructive shithead that he'd been right after Tara left, he'd still felt so lost and off-kilter without the two people he loved most in the world. It was during that lonely period that he'd done some of the darkest, most violent shit for The Club - not to mention losing his fucking mind and marrying Wendy.

Although his plan to leave SAMCRO and Charming also means leaving Opie, Jax's at peace with the decision. As Piney's son, Opie would be well-positioned to take Jax's place as VP and future President; the Club would be in good hands with him because, unlike Clay's non-stop pursuit of money and power, Opie would be dedicated to realizing the vision for the Club that their fathers had intended. And he'd have Lyla and his kids by his side just as Jax would have Tara and their kids.

"Mommy…" Apparently Abel's reached his limit away from Tara because he starts to wriggle impatiently on Jax's lap, his chubby arms eagerly outstretched for her. Maybe another man might feel resentment over his son's clear preference for his mother, but not Jax. He knows better than most what it feels like to crave Tara's embrace. Rising so that he can transfer Abel into Tara's arms, he observes closely for any indication of pain or discomfort as she carefully positions the toddler on her hip. Although she never complains to him, he knows from his mom that Tara's been having backaches; however, when he'd suggested that she stop carrying Abel or anything heavier than a potato chip, she'd nearly took his damn head off.

Jax can't keep the goofy smile off his face as he watches Abel frame Tara's face in his small hands before planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Then yawning hugely, his little boy rests his head on his mommy's shoulder, a blissful smile on his face. Like father, like son.

Pulling both of them into his arms, Jax brushes kiss after kiss to her lips and cheeks and forehead. Then he leads Tara back to the couch, not wanting her on her feet any longer, and helps her sit since Abel wasn't letting go of her anytime soon. Looking over at Opie, he's a little surprised to see his friend smiling warmly instead of rolling his eyes or smirking smugly as he's done for years to tease Jax for being so thoroughly pussy-whipped. Walking over to his friend, Jax pulls Opie into a bear hug. "Thanks, Bro." Again his words sound inadequate to his ears, but he doesn't know how else to voice how much he appreciates everything Opie's done to take care of Tara and Abel. But, like Tara, Opie always seems to know what he can't say and pounds a series of hard thumps on Jax's back.

Yeah, Jax'll miss his best friend like hell when he finally leaves with his family - it'll be like cutting off his arm - but Tara and their kids are his heart and soul; he never wants to leave them again, which would be inevitable if he stays with SAMCRO - either through a return to prison for an even lengthier sentence or death. Sliding in the seat next to Tara, he cups her cheeks and stares at that gorgeous face. "I love you," he runs a hand through her silky hair and grins broadly, "Dr. Knowles, Board Certified Surgeon."

_Soon Babe,_ he tells her silently, pressing his forehead against hers; soon, he'll be able to tell her about all his plans for their future. Yes, he can leave Charming, SAMCRO, his mother, his Brothers, his best friend - just as long as he has Tara; she's all he's ever wanted and all he'll ever, ever need.

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 190<span>_

"_Don't worry…"_ that's what they all said - his mom, Opie, Clay, Bobby…

"_Don't worry…"_ as if they honestly believed that somehow he could be comforted if enough people said it enough times…

"_Don't worry…"_ the two most fucking useless words in the whole goddamn universe…

Jax had just seen her; she was just here – smiling and giggling as he and Abel sang bedtime songs against her belly to relax baby Thomas, who'd been even more rambunctious than ever, kicking and somersaulting as if he couldn't wait to get out into the world. And now…Jesus Christ…Huddled on the cold cell floor, Jax holds his head in his hands as he tries not to lose his fucking mind. Elevated blood pressure, bleeding, bed rest…What the fuck did it all that mean? When he'd screamed into the phone for Tara, for someone to let her talk to him - all he got was _"Don't worry…"_

He'd been pulled out of breakfast by a guard and escorted to a prison counselor who told him the news: there'd been an accident and Tara was in the hospital. Given the wary looks that they'd given him, it had taken every fucking ounce of his goddamn self-control not to go completely ape shit over the news - no easy feat considering that his heart and every single fucking blood vessel had been exploding inside of him. But fortunately, his brain had been somewhat functional and told him that the guards wouldn't hesitate to put him in solitary if he'd acted on his initial impulse to trash the counselor's office in terror and rage, then beat the living shit out of anyone who'd stop him from getting to her.

His hard-fought restraint must've been evident and appreciated because they'd let him use the phone to call a number that he'd instantly recognized as Gemma's cell. His mother had told him everything that she knew: that a drunk driver had slammed into the Cutlass while one of the Prospects had been driving Tara home from the Clubhouse last night. No one seemed seriously hurt until she'd collapsed upon arriving at the hospital for a precautionary check-up; Tara's doctor had admitted her immediately and ordered bed rest until the baby's birth.

That had been twelve hours ago; twelve fucking hours of mentally torturing himself over all the horrifying things that could go wrong. He feels so goddamn helpless stuck in this fucking cell; he should be with her, holding her hand and willing her to be strong - like she'd done for him after he got shivved. For the millionth time since walking into Stockton, he curses the circumstances and choices that keep him separated from his family.

Lifting his head, he stares at the dozens of photos and colored pictures adorning his walls. Tara's been diligent at sending him photos of Abel to chronicle their son's growth; however, since she'd been the one with the camera, there were few photos that included her. It'd been Opie and Gemma who'd sent him the photos that he'd taped next to his bed, pictures of her and Abel that he'd stare at every night before going to sleep and every morning before getting up for the day.

Crawling into bed, he plucks his two favorite pictures from the wall; Opie'd sent these to him just last week. The first had created a lump in his throat - Tara smiling lovingly down at Abel, her fingers ruffling his hair while the little boy kissed her huge belly, his small arms wrapped around the swollen mound housing his little brother. The second had made his heart pound - a solo shot of Tara smiling softly into the camera, her green eyes glowing. To others, it could've been just a picture of a beautiful girl, but for Jax it's a breath-taking reminder that - despite all the bullshit in their crazy lives - the one constant truth was how much he loved her.

He presses a kiss to the photo, wishing for her soft lips instead of the slick paper. "The baby and I are okay, Jax," she'd assured him once he'd finally been able to talk to her this afternoon. "The accident was just a shock to the system, but he's a tough little guy…just like his Daddy." Jax hadn't been able to respond; with too many emotions battering him, hearing her voice destroyed what little the composure he had left.

"_I love you, Baby…" she croons softly, soothingly as if she knows the pain and panic threatening to rip him apart. "But we're fine, and we'll see you soon. Don't worry…"_

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 192<span>_

For the second time in three days, a guard had escorts him from breakfast to the same counselor's office but with a different number to call - Tara's cell.

"He's here; Thomas is here," she whispers in wonder. "And he's so beautiful…like his Daddy. He looks just like you, Jax. Exactly like you…I really wish you were here, Baby."

He clutches the phone in a death grip, as if he could somehow get closer to them. "Me too, Babe. Tell me about him..."

Exhausted but jubilant, Tara tells him that Thomas Teller had entered the world at the crack of dawn, a whopping eight-and-a-half pounds of "screaming perfection." She'd gone into labor a little before noon yesterday so it was probably a good thing that she'd already been at the hospital (not that it would stop him from plotting retaliation against the drunk asshole who put her there in the first place). And to his immense relief, both she and Baby Thomas seem in perfect health; no sign of the family flaw in his second son's heart.

Wiping his eyes, he tries to corral all the emotions raging within him. He's a father again, another little boy to call him "Daddy"…A little boy that he'd created with Tara, the love of his life, who'd given him everything. Yes, she'd given him everything, had always been there for him; yet, here he is, once again missing these huge milestones in her life – graduations from high school, college, medical school and now the birth of their first child. All because of his loyalty to The Club. Well no more. He's got his plan in place to leave SAMCRO, and when he gets out of this fucking prison, he'll always be there for her, for his family.

"I love you, Tara." He's vaguely aware of the prison counselor pretending to study the photos on his desk and the guard blatantly staring at him; he doesn't give a shit if they know how pussy whipped he is for his Old Lady. "You and the boys are everything to me, Babe. Everything…"

* * *

><p><em><span>Day 425<span>_

He gets out tomorrow; it's been the longest fourteen months of his life but tomorrow he'll finally, finally be able to go home to Tara and their boys.

It doesn't take him long to pack up most of his stuff – a Harley manual that Opie had sent him, a book from Tara (she'd actually sent him a book every week but they'd agreed he should donate them to the prison library after he finished reading, but _The Count of Monte Cristo_ - a remnant from one of their high school English classes - he wanted to keep) and the small journals he'd started writing for his sons.

The pictures on the wall take longer to pack because he can't stop staring at them, especially the photos of Tara with both Abel and Thomas. His heart squeezes again at the image of Abel meeting his baby brother for the first time – Abel cupping Thomas' chubby cheek in his small hand while Tara beams down at both her boys. Jax vows to himself that all the next family pictures will include him.

The guards call lights out, and they're plunged into darkness for the last time. However, he can't sleep to save his life; too much nervous energy and anticipation - not only to see his family, but to start the new chapter in his life, in their lives.

Last week he'd called Chibs to ask if his Brother remembered their run-in at that little jewelry store right before the rumble with the LOAN pricks. Chibs had chuckled and told him that he'd never forget the sight of bad ass Jackie Teller mooning over an engagement ring; he'd promised to show Gemma the ring so she could buy it for Jax, using some of the cash from Jax's share of the gun sales. Chibs had offered to pick up the ring himself, but Jax had refused; rational or not, Jax hadn't wanted another man to buy the ring for his future wife.

It occurs to him that, after over a year, the ring might not be there. But he tells himself that it had to be there; it's like it'd been created just for her - a beautiful work of art that he'd never been able to forget. Just like Tara. And he can't fucking wait to slide it on her finger and start the beautiful life he intends to give her.


	11. All the Things You Touch

**Chapter 10: ****ALL THE THINGS YOU TOUCH**

_Patterson sizes up her opponent - boyishly handsome, charming, smart as hell and utterly ruthless; Rosen's a chip off the old butcher's block. She may not know the son, but she was more than familiar with the father and the tactics he'd used to protect and enrich SAMCRO and other shady organizations back in his day. However, she'd thought Rosen Jr. had distanced himself from the MC a few years ago, preferring to let his associate, Ally Lowen, play consigliere for Clay, Jax and the motorcycle boys - and Tara._

_Apparently he's back to ride to the Biker King's rescue, or so Patterson intends to find out. "What brings you here, Mr. Rosen? I never thought you were one to chase ambulances."_

"_You'd be right about that." He grins and extends a hand, which she shakes politely. "I'm here to visit a sick friend."_

"_Jackson Teller, I presume?" She nods in the direction of the ICU. "Interesting, I thought you had walked away from the dark side of the law. Must be one hell of a retainer."_

_Instead of angering him, her jab only brightens his mega-watt smile. "Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Patterson? As I said, I'm here to see an old friend." Then to her surprise, the smile disappears and what might be genuine grief spreads across his face. "I've known Tara since she was fifteen - she was remarkable even back then. Center of Jax's world." He shakes his head sadly. "It's a tragic loss for all of us."_

* * *

><p>"Holy fuck, Tara," Opie roars. "What the goddamn hell is that shit?"<p>

Jax laughs openly at his best friend's pained outrage as Tara ignores Opie's cringing protests and continues to dab the liquid torture on his open cuts. What seemed like an easy trip to the Wahewa reservation to check on their ammo had gone to hell pretty fast when Putlova's goons, looking for their guns, ambushed them. Between the beat down by those Russian assholes and the car crash trying to get away, he and Ope got banged up pretty good; so after Jax and Tara's impromptu engagement celebration ended, she'd dragged them both into the apartment to clean and patch up all their injuries.

"Welcome to my world, Ope. She's been torturing me with that shit since high school. It's supposed to be medicinal, but I think she might get off a little on making us suffer. Must be a doctor thing."

"Keep talking, tough guy." Tara frowns in concentration as she starts pulling shards of glass out of Opie's head with sterilized tweezers. "You're next."

Jax loves watching her in doctor mode - so precise, so efficient, so fucking sexy... He flashes her his best panty-dropping smile then shifts to adjust himself; it's probably wrong to be this turned on while Tara digs into Opie's scalp. And by the bad-tempered scowl Opie shoots his way, his best friend agrees. "You've gotta be kidding me, Bro," Opie half-snarls, half-yelps. "Seriously, there are drugs and support groups that can fix your problem."

"What problem?" Jax's had a hard-on for Tara Knowles since the summer they were fourteen, and he saw what she could do for a bikini. But that endless lust's just part of the intense love that burns in him for her; the same intense love that - he's infinitely thankful - she feels for him. So he'd hardly call it a problem; hell no, it's the greatest of gifts.

Opie rolls his eyes then shudders as Tara picks out a rather large chunk of glass that even makes Jax wince. But instead of mollifying him, the pain must've reminded Opie of another bone he's got to pick with his oldest friends. "Oh, and by the way, thanks for telling me in advance that you got engaged, _best friend_. How is it that _I_ find out at the same time as a bunch of croweaters?"

Jax shifts in his chair; this time because he doesn't really have a good explanation for Opie - at least not one that he's ready to divulge. After he'd proposed to Tara, they'd agreed to keep their engagement quiet in deference to Opie and Lyla's wedding. But Jax knew they both loved the idea of keeping the big news to themselves (and Gemma) for a while - their little secret, just like the plan to escape SAMCRO and Charming and raise their family in peace. However, Tara had stunned everyone, including him, when she'd made the announcement after seeing how dejected everyone was over their violated Clubhouse. It'd been the perfect thing to do to lift everyone's spirits, including his. Lying on the Wahewa cabin floor waiting for the Russians to kill him, he'd agonized over the thought of getting ripped away from her and their boys - just when he'd finally returned to them, finally put that ring on Tara's finger, finally solidified his plans to get them away from the MC life. Hearing her happily and proudly tell everyone about their engagement reminded him of their greater plan – to be free from the type of shit that went down today, free to be a real family. But he can't tell Opie any of that.

"If memory serves…" Tara pipes in, inspecting Opie's head for any more glass or other debris, "…those same croweaters were there when we found about your engagement to Lyla during Gemma's breakfast."

Yeah, Jax smirks smugly at his friend. Of course, to be fair, there really wasn't much opportunity for Opie to tell them - he and Tara had barely arrived at the breakfast before Tara whisked him away for some mindblowing pre-breakfast festivities. A fact he can tell Opie's about to remind them until his friend spots Tara pouring more liquid torture on a clean gauze strip and pales. "Okay, okay you win. Keep that shit away from me, and we're all even. Come on Tara, don't…OH HOLY FUCK!"

* * *

><p>Although she's satisfied that Jax doesn't have a concussion, Tara still won't let him ride his bike - insisting that he ride shotgun in her Mommy SUV while she drives them home. He'd ignored the teasing smirks from his Brothers as he climbed into the passenger seat; those knuckleheads can mock him all they want, but he's got big plans for that front seat - then he'll be the one with the big smile.<p>

After pulling into their driveway, Tara turns off the car and turns to him - no doubt to check and see if he's feeling any pain or dizziness. Oh, he's feeling pain, but nothing she can't easily fix. Not waiting one more second, he grabs her face and devours her mouth - pouring all of his desperate need for her into that kiss. Then, breathing heavily, he drags his mouth from hers and glides his lips down her throat to graze that super-sensitive point on her neck with his teeth.

"Oh fuck, Baby," she moans as he nips hard then starts to suck.

"Thought you'd never ask…" Jax tears open her jeans and slides his fingers between her legs to rub her clit. "Come on, Babe. Time to christen the Mommy Mobile." His fingers probe deeper, skimming her slit before dipping inside her wet heat.

"Didn't we do that last night?" She pulls his mouth back up to hers and tightens her arms around his neck. During Opie and Lyla's wedding reception, she'd tugged him into the back seat of her SUV and lit up his world right there in the Wahewa parking lot within earshot of dozens of wedding guests. Later that night, Alvarez had greeted him with a broad grin and congratulatory slap on the back. "You're a damn lucky man, Esé."

Oh fuck yeah, his breathing hitches as Tara's nimble fingers pull his eager cock free from his boxers and jeans; he's the luckiest fucking man on the planet. And about to get luckier. "That was the back seat," he reminds her, rubbing her clit with his thumb, loving how she shivers with pleasure and tightens her grip on his dick. "Remember when I taught you how to drive?" Using several cars from TM and her old man's Cutlass, Jax had been quite thorough at preparing fifteen-year-old Tara for her driver's test - including dozens and dozens of lessons that wouldn't ever be part of any driver's exam anywhere.

"Be careful with the brakes…" she recites, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue, "...the ride in the back seat feels different from the front."

"That's my girl." He pecks at her lips then backs away to adjust his seat lever so that he's practically horizontal. "No brakes, Babe. Now take off those jeans and let's see how good the ride is from the front."

And it's a fucking damn good ride.

* * *

><p>When Jax first went inside, he'd worried about being a stranger to his boys once he got home. He remembered how much Opie'd despaired about his kids barely knowing him when he got out of Chino, how long it took to re-connect with Ellie and Kenny. But even though Jax wouldn't be gone for as long as Opie and his kids much younger, he still worried that Abel would forget him, that he'd never bond with Thomas after missing so much.<p>

But fortunately, except for the first three weeks that she had to wait for visitation approval, Tara never missed a single weekly visit or holiday that Stockton allowed prisoners to celebrate with family members. And unless they were sick, she always brought Abel, and later Thomas, with her; she'd wanted them to know their daddy, wanted him to see his sons grow as much as he could. He hadn't thought it remotely possible, but during his fourteen months in Stockton, he fell even more in love with her; she'd given him the perfect family.

Nearly everyone says his sons look exactly like him - and that's mostly true. Abel does strongly resemble him, however for those who knew Tommy, Abel actually looks more and more like Jax's baby brother every day. But what he finds fascinating is that, although neither Tommy nor Abel share DNA with Tara, his little brother and his oldest son are more like her than Jax or anyone else in his family. It amazes and amuses him to watch Abel mimic so many of Tara's expressions – a raised brow, a soft smile, even her lifelong habit of looking away to gather her thoughts. His little boy couldn't have picked a better role model.

Looking at Thomas, however, is like seeing himself as a baby; his features, his expressions, his high octane personality - all mirrored in his baby boy. Everything, that is, except his eyes. Thomas' mossy green eyes are pure Tara - and since Jax's loved those eyes nearly all his life, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Yeah, he's got the perfect family; one he's wanted with Tara since high school. But - one day - Jax wants a little girl; a little girl who's as smart and determined and beautiful as her mother - he'd give anything to see little Tara again. But he'll have to wait; Tara told him that she'd like for Abel and Thomas to be a little older before getting pregnant again. What she didn't say is what they both know - they shouldn't be adding to their family until he's out of SAMCRO, and they're safely away from Charming. He knows that's the right decision, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Thinking of his family, Jax bails on yet another Club party. He ignores Bobby and Tig shaking their heads at him and heads home, hoping to catch the boys before they go to sleep. Letting himself in the house, he follows the sound of Tara's voice into Thomas' room. Pausing in the doorway, he smiles at the sight of Abel and Thomas cuddled with their mom on the futon as she reads from a worn copy of a children's book he knows all too well.

_Goodnight bears  
><em>_Goodnight chairs  
><em>_Goodnight kittens  
><em>_And goodnight mittens…*_

For weeks, Tommy had driven the Teller family crazy saying goodnight to everything under the sun (and moon); no one knew where the four-year-old got the idea to do it, nor could they make him stop. Then one afternoon Jax and Opie took a break from riding bikes to go Tara's and finagle some of the cookies she'd been baking for Tommy. Walking into the Knowles' backyard, they found Tommy and Tara curled together on a picnic blanket munching chocolate chip cookies while she read from a stack of kid's books - one of which had been about saying goodnight to everything. Jax told himself that he'd only stuck around all afternoon to eat the best homemade cookies ever, not because he'd been captivated by the sound of her voice and the stories she read.

Walking into the room, he ruffles Abel's hair then slides in next to Tara, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.

_Goodnight stars  
><em>_Goodnight air  
><em>_Goodnight noises everywhere…*_

* * *

><p>Holy shit, since he got out of Stockton, it's like they're in high school again. Not that he and Tara had been models of restraint before he'd gone inside, but in the past week, it's like they've been trying to make up for those fourteen months of celibacy. Not that he's complaining. Fuck no.<p>

But finding quality time with her has proven a little more challenging with two small boys - especially one who can walk, open doors and fully believes that Tara belongs to _him_. After putting the boys to sleep at night, they'd more or less attack each other, pleasuring one another with marathon sex - until Thomas would wake up hungry or wet or ready to play. And even though Abel's a sound sleeper, he's also an early riser who's used to climbing in bed with his Mommy at the crack of dawn every morning. So, to Jax's profound regret, no more morning sex.

But he's nothing if not determined; spinning a few white lies and machinations, he and Tara have managed to steal a few hours alone in her office the past couple of days. Although it hasn't been easy - with the Russians now out of the picture, SAMCRO's taken full control of all the Irish stock - meaning a lot of work with distribution, even with Galindo claiming the lion's share.

The thought of the cartel gives him pause as he strides through the hallways at St. Thomas. Fuck, selling guns to the cartel is bad enough, but getting involved with drugs… He hates that shit. Jax doesn't delude himself into thinking that drugs ruined his first marriage; he shouldn't have hooked up with Wendy in the first place, much less married her - but her pathetic drug addiction almost killed Abel. It's fucked-up irony that, to secure his freedom, he has to back Clay and support SAMCRO muling drugs for a goddamn Mexican cartel. Jesus Christ, Tara's going to kill him - or worse, leave him - if she ever finds out. Which is why there's no way in hell she can never find out.

"Hey, are you okay?" She must've sensed his tension; the welcoming smile she'd beamed at him when he walked into her office instantly turns to concern. "What's wrong, Baby?" She rises from her desk and starts towards him as he locks the door.

Lifting Tara into his arms, he fuses his mouth to hers as he carries her over to the couch. Looming over her, he brushes a strand of dark hair from her face then strokes her soft cheek with his thumb. "Just been missing you all day. I love you, Tara."

She smiles up at him, green eyes misty. "I love you, too, Baby." Then tweaking his goatee with her fingers, she slides one hand down his back to squeeze his ass. "Now how about proving how much you've missed me."

"Yes, ma'am." He grins, pecking at her lips before plucking open her blouse to reveal those luscious plump breasts straining against the sexy black bra that's been haunting him since he first watched her nurse Thomas. Shrugging out of her doctor's coat and blouse, she reaches behind her to unhook her bra, but he gently pulls her hands away. "No, let me." He flicks open the clasps securing the front cups and pulls the flaps down slowly, exposing her bare breasts to his hungry gaze. Dipping his head, he leisurely traces the rosy ring around each nipple with his tongue before drawing a pink bud into his mouth – sucking softly, knowing she's even more sensitive than usual.

Moaning his name as he suckles her, she shoves his cut and shirt from his shoulders then attacks his fly. Within seconds, they've tossed all their clothes to the floor, and she's got her arms wrapped around his neck while she straddles him - riding slowly, steadily; her inner muscles grasping his cock like a hot, wet fist. He can't get enough of the taste of her; kissing and licking her lips, sucking and tangling her tongue with his. Nor can he get enough of her soft, silky skin; his hands and fingers stroking every inch of her gorgeous body.

"Oh shit, Tara," he gasps against her throat as she grinds down on him - pushing his dick deeper inside of her, while rubbing her hard nipples against his chest. Fuck, he's so close, but he wants her to come with him. Sliding a hand between their tightly joined bodies, he rubs her clit then covers her mouth with his to muffle her - and his - cries of pleasure as he explodes inside of her; it probably wouldn't be good for her career if they're discovered in her office during the middle of the day - completely naked, fucking each other senseless.

It's been over an hour since he sneaked away; he should probably get back to The Clubhouse - no doubt Clay's looking for him now. But lying on the carpeted floor with her nestled in his arms, it's too hard to pull himself away, especially knowing the shitty hours he's got ahead of him - of Piney and Bobby eyeing him accusingly, wondering if he's lost his goddamn mind supporting Clay on this cartel shit. Maybe he has, but staring into her beautiful face and those warm green eyes, he knows there's nothing in this world he wouldn't do to keep her with him.

Kissing her forehead, he strokes her arm. "So I got bad news and good news." Chuckling softly at her worried expression, he rubs her shoulder. "It's not that bad, Babe; just that next week me and some of the guys have to head out for a couple of days for a bike show." He brushes a kiss to her plump pink lips. "I'll bring you a souvenir."

"Is that the good news?" She grins up at him, her fingers tugging his goatee. "A souvenir from the motorcycle show?"

"No, smart ass." His hands slide down her back to cup those perky, perfect cheeks - pressing her closer to his rapidly recovering erection. "You said you've got the weekend off, so I talked Clay into letting me skip the run he's planned. Gemma said she'd watch the boys so you and I can head out for a little camping trip."

"Jax… You know I'd love to go, but Thomas is still nursing and Abel…"

"They'll be fine. It's a short trip - we head out Friday after work, back Sunday morning. The boys get some quality time with Grandma, and you get to keep your promise."

"What promise?" she gasps as he starts nibbling on her neck.

"Don't tell me you forgot…" He shifts so she's underneath him. "When I was in the infirmary, you promised we'd go skinny dipping. I didn't forget." Spreading her thighs, he plunges inside her. "Come on, Babe," he coaxes, sucking on her neck as he starts to thrust. "Say yes…"

"Oh yes," she moans as he pumps harder and harder. "Yes, yes, yes…"

* * *

><p>Abel doesn't take the idea of separation from his mother well at all. Jax feels stabs of guilt as he watches his son cling to Tara, his small face buried into her shoulder as he cries like his world's ending. Judging from the stricken look on her face and the tears welling in her eyes, Jax starts to worry their trip may not happen. And it doesn't help that Abel's cries distress Thomas, who's now howling as loud as his little lungs will let him.<p>

Picking up his baby son, Jax tries to soothe him, tickling his toes as he'd seen Tara do to diffuse the baby's temper. But it doesn't work as Thomas can't seem to get past his big brother's misery.

"Hey sweetie, it's okay." Tara strokes Abel's hair. "We'll be home soon. Grandma has all sorts of fun things planned for you." But Abel only shakes his head, crying louder and clutching her tighter. "How about when we get home on Sunday morning, it can be Abel Day."

What the hell is Abel Day? Jax wrinkles his brow at Gemma, who shrugs her shoulders. Whatever it is, it seems to work as Abel stops crying and peers into his mom's face. "Promise?"

Tara beams the little boy a smile that warms Jax's insides from across the room. Lifting her hand, she extends her pinky finger towards Abel. "Pinky-swear." Nodding somberly, Abel interlocks his small pinky with Tara's. Whatever Abel Day is, they're locked into it now; only complete assholes break pinky swears.

"Love you, sweetheart." Tara wraps her arms around the small boy, kissing his blond head. Because Abel's always looked so much like Tommy, Jax used to believe that Tara's strong attachment to him may have stemmed from the tight bond she'd had with his little brother. But seeing her with Abel, it's clear that mother and son have their own tight bond.

It's not until he's sitting on his bike watching her strap on her helmet that he finally asks. "What's Abel Day?"

"Oh, we go out for pancakes, go to the park, then come home and make cookies and watch his favorite movies until bedtime. It's a pretty good day." She leans in to press a lingering kiss on his lips, squeezing his thigh. "Now are you ready for Jax's Day?"

Smiling, he pulls her closer, wrapping her tight in his arms. "Babe, with you, every day is Jax Day."

* * *

><p>"This was a really good idea, Baby." She runs her fingers through his spiky wet hair before looping her arms around his neck. "The water feels so good."<p>

"Not just the water." Jax runs his hands up and down her naked back before sliding down to cradle that perfect, perfect ass. Covering her mouth with his, he growls with pleasure as she wraps her long legs around his waist, rubbing his hard cock tightly between them.

Jax knows that his plan to move his family far away from Charming means leaving his mother, Opie and the rest of his Brothers behind. But not once does he think about saying goodbye to this secluded lakeside park at the base of Mt. Walker where he's spent so many blissful hours - first with his dad and little brother and then with Tara. Although he'd loved camping here as a kid with JT and Tommy, he'll forever associate the idyllic spot with Tara - it's always been their special place; where all the shit in their lives would disappear, where they could be the only two people in the world. No, Jax knows that no matter where they end up, he and Tara would always find their way back here.

Maybe because this place's pretty hard to find, Jax's never seen any other campers, hikers or anyone fishing the lake - even when it was considered public property. Which is why he's always been okay with stripping Tara naked here in the open air; saves him from having to gouge out some motherfucker's eyes for seeing her the way only he can see her. Even so, given all the shit with the Russians and the fucking cartel, Jax knows there's some risk bringing her here out in the open without some kind of back-up, but he desperately wants the time alone with her after all the months he'd missed her so goddamn much.

He assures himself with the fact that, ever since the Wahewa reclaimed the land, it's even more secluded as no outsiders can set foot on the property without permission from Chief Charlie Horse - and after that skirmish with the Russians that got Running Mouth killed, Charlie's been even more militant about patrolling the borders. So between the Chief's protective paranoia and the fucking arsenal Jax's packed in his bag, he's sure he can keep Tara safe.

Breaking the kiss, she flashes him that saucy smile that speeds up his already racing pulse and reaches between them to cup his balls - massaging the swollen sacs with her warm, wet fingers. "Jesus, Tara," he gasps against her mouth, basking in the sensation for as long as he can; then slowly disengaging her fingers from his balls, he lifts her until those thick pink nipples brush against his hungry mouth. She clutches his shoulders to brace herself as he licks and sucks each rosy tip over and over until she's grinding against him, panting his name.

Flushed and radiant, Tara drapes one arm around his neck as she reaches down to grasp his cock, guiding him to her slick folds. She gives his balls a final squeeze before sliding her hand to stroke his wet face. "I love you, Jax."

"Love you more," Claiming her mouth once again, he grips her ass - hissing with pleasure as her legs tighten around his waist, squeezing his cock.

Pushing deep inside of her, he pumps slowly, leisurely as she meets him thrust for thrust. But the easy pace doesn't last long - it never does - and soon they're frantically clutching each other as he drives harder and deeper into her. She comes quickly, explosively - screaming how much she loves him as a rush of wet heat drenches his pounding cock, her intense spasms pulsating all around him. Holy shit, he closes his eyes, drowning in ecstasy as he feels his balls erupting, jetting streams of his own wet heat into her.

It takes long moments for both of them to recover, breathing heavily, still clutching each other tightly. He feels her soft breath in his ear. "A really, really good idea, Baby."

* * *

><p>"This is the most beautiful ring I've ever seen." Snuggling against him as they lay by the campfire, she lifts her hand, admiring the sparkling diamonds and platinum band set off by the glowing firelight. "Maybe I shouldn't ask, but how were you able to pick out a ring like this while you were in Stockton?"<p>

He nuzzles her neck, pressing soft kisses to her silky skin. "Actually I picked it out weeks before I went inside. Was going to ask you sooner, but…" Fuck, he doesn't want to go there; doesn't want to taint any part of this this night, this weekend or the rest of their lives with memories of him going batshit crazy.

Completely understanding, she smiles and cups his face. "I'm just so thrilled to have it now."

Maybe he shouldn't ask, but he can't help himself. "If this is the most beautiful engagement ring you've ever seen, how many other marriage proposals have you had?" He masks his decade-old jealousy with a light, teasing tone, or so he hopes. It's been years since Kozik told him the story of Tara's other marriage proposal; he knows he's a fucking idiot to still be thinking about it, but part of him - hell, all of him - needs to know what that douchebag meant to her. He's never loved anyone like he loves her, not even close; he needs to know that it's been the same for her.

"Actually I was talking about rings in general. But to answer your question, I've never owned another engagement ring." She looks up at him curiously as if sensing his unease. "Something the matter?"

Feigning casual indifference, he shrugs then pulls her closer to him. "No, all's good. I guess I really don't know much about the life you had away from Charming." Except for Kohn - and Jax knows all he ever cares to know about that dead piece of shit.

"Well I never married anyone else…unlike some people." She smiles impishly, tweaking his goatee.

"I told you about that." He skims his thumb back and forth across her lower lip; Tara's always had the plumpest, pinkest, most kissable lips he'd ever seen. Unable to resist, he feeds her a slow, lingering kiss; pulling away slightly before he forgets what he wants to say. "It was a shit time of my life, Tara. You were gone, Ope was in Chino…" He brushes a dark lock of hair from her face. "I just really missed what you and I had. So I thought if my mom could find a second chance with Clay, then maybe I could, too. Wendy was a friend, and we had a good time - but it was a big fucking mistake. I never loved her, didn't even like her most of the time we were married. I was a shitty husband, and she couldn't lay off the drugs. But what really killed us was that she wasn't you, and I just couldn't pretend anymore."

Catching him by surprise she rolls them so he's flat on his back while she lies on top of him - like their many, many yoga sessions; however, there's no teasing, saucy smile on her face this time. "I love you, Jax." She caresses his face with her soft hands, raining kisses on his lips. Then resting her chin on her folded arms, she looks off into the distance. "I missed what we had too, Baby. Mostly, I tried to stay busy with school - there was definitely a lot of that. I didn't sleep with 'hundreds' of guys." She rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head. "Just a few… There was one guy I started dating when I was a sophomore; we were together for a few years, but…"

"Did you love him?" Dreading the answer, Jax fucking hates the insecurity he hears in his voice. Almost as much as he hates that nameless, faceless shitbag from her past.

Now it's her turn to skim her fingers across his lips. "I told myself I did, he was a great guy. But in the end…he wasn't you, and I just couldn't pretend anymore."

Smiling, he lifts her left hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her engagement ring - squeezing her tightly against him with his free arm. She's mine, he vows fiercely; Tara belongs to him, like he's always belonged to her. After all the shit that's happened to keep them apart, they're still together because they're meant to be together.

* * *

><p>"…<em>the best way to keep you to keep you safe is for you to be with me."<em>

He'd promised her that she'd be safe, that he'd never let anything hurt their kids. What a goddamn fucking joke. He helped engineer his Club's involvement with a fucking Mexican drug cartel - and got his family caught in the bloody crossfire between two vicious rivals engaged in a fucking turf war.

Jesus Christ, it was horrifying enough knowing that Lobo Sonora had targeted Tara - then they'd fucking snatched her right under his goddamn nose. What if he hadn't been able to wrest her away from those Mexican pricks? What if those bastards had hurt Abel and Thomas? Although there's no doubt that watching their mother get ripped away from them had terrified both boys; they'd cried inconsolably the entire way home - Abel was still screaming for his mommy when Jax'd left them with Elyda to rush to the hospital. Holy fucking hell, his brain's ready to explode thinking of all the terrible shit he's rained down on his family - all because he'd been blinded by the deceptively easy way out of the Club, by the big payday. But it's Tara who paid the price for his blind stupidity. Again.

He loves her so damn much; yet his love keeps hurting her. He'd tried to push her away so that she'd be safe - only to get her kidnapped and nearly killed by that prick Salazar, thirsting for revenge. So he'd kept her close to him - and now a murderous drug cartel bent on retaliation tries to abduct her and crushes her hand in the process; that soft, magical hand that'd saved Abel and countless others, that's given him so much comfort since they were little kids.

Trying hard to compose himself, he walks aimlessly through the hallways until he finds himself standing in front of her office.

_Tara Knowles, MD  
><em>_Neonatal-Perinatal Medicine_

Jax runs his finger across her nameplate remembering how happy and proud he'd been to know she'd accomplished her dream to become a doctor, how choked up he got when he learned about her focus on pediatric cardiology, how her beautiful face had lit up with such joy when she told him about earning her board certification. And he knows how brutally rough the road was for her - she'd told him about the long hours spent studying and working at the hospital until she was dead on her feet; how sometimes it could be days before getting to sleep or eat a decent meal, not to mention dealing with all the stress and pressure and competition. And if he knew Tara, she did it all alone. _But it was worth it, Baby. The first time I was able to help save someone's life…It was absolutely worth it…._

Opening the door, he steps inside her office and turns on the light; the suffocating pressure in his chest eases a tiny fraction as he's swamped by his memories of Tara in this room - her dark head bent over one of those massive medical books, her gorgeous face lighting up when she looks up to catch him staring at her, her plump pink lips gliding over his chest and thighs and swollen cock. Shit, it's hard to believe that just a few days ago he'd come here to take her to lunch - which turned out to be a granola bar from her purse that they'd fed each other, sitting half-dressed on her couch after an hour's worth of demonstrating how much they missed each other since breakfast.

Even though he's spent quite a bit of time in her office, he's always blown away by all the framed accolades, the stacks of thick medical tomes, the mystifying charts on the walls, the drawers jammed full of patient files, the photos of her infant patients. His girl's the real deal in the medical world….Fuck, fuck, fuck - what if the damage to her hand is permanent? Tara's survived a lot of shit, but this could break her - she loved her job, loved helping patients, loved saving Tommy Teller over and over and over. No, that can't happen; that can't fucking happen.

Turning around, he stalks out of the office and heads for Tara's hospital room - although not sure of the reception he'll get from her. Reeling from the devastating news about her hand and possible end to her surgical career, she'd wanted to be alone - but not wanting to leave her, he'd resisted until she'd screamed at him to go. Reluctantly, he left, but it's impossible for him to stay away any longer.

Slowly, Jax opens the door to Tara's hospital room to find her sound asleep - clearly exhausted from all the physical and emotional trauma. Walking over to her bed, his heart squeezes at the sight of her lying so pale and still, her hand and arm encased in that monstrous cast. He swallows hard as he lightly touches her fingers peeking out from cast, then brushes his fingers across her soft cheeks still wet with tears.

For as long as he lives, he'll never forget the heart-stopping fear that ripped through him when he saw those pricks haul her into their van or the feel of her shaking uncontrollably against him, hyperventilating from the panic and pain. His burning rage that had exploded earlier today - first at the Niner bar and then with his Brothers when Clay refused to let him meet with Romeo - rushes back in full force. He's going to find the Lobo bastards who did this to her - and when he does, he'll make them fucking suffer Tara's pain and more, so much goddamn more, that they'll be begging him for death. And he'll be happy, so goddamn fucking happy to send them all to hell.

* * *

><p>*from <em>Goodnight Moon<em> by Margaret Wise Brown


	12. The Things You Love

**Chapter 11: ****THE THINGS YOU LOVE**

"_So, Mrs. Patterson, I've heard you've been here every day since Jax was admitted." Rosen's intense stare belies his casual tone; pleasantries aside, he's clearly started earning what must be an exorbitant retainer. "But something tells me that this is more than just a civil servant's concern for one of Charming's life-long residents."_

_Patterson considers the man's probing assessment, trying to determine how much she wants to disclose. Rosen's too smart, too well-trained by his father to get caught in any of the usual traps she sets for opposing counsels with less experience and more ethics. "Mr. Teller was arrested for assaulting several sheriff's deputies. And I'm always more than a little concerned when it comes to punishing attacks on law enforcement officers."_

"_Well given the circumstances, I would think a little understanding and some leniency would be warranted here, Mrs. Patterson. You're talking about a man crazed with grief after finding his wife murdered." Rosen glances over to the ICU before turning his attention back to her. "Once again, I sense there's more to the County DA's concern than a few mildly injured deputies."_

"_The injuries are hardly minor," Patterson argues. "Teller broke one man's nose…"_

"…_Which is nothing that doesn't already happen during the monthly softball games against the Stockton Fire Department. Be honest, Mrs. Patterson, why are you really here? Surely you don't suspect Jax of killing Tara. He loved her; been in love with her since they were kids."_

_Patterson narrows her eyes, but remains silent. Honestly, she hasn't made up her mind regarding Teller's culpability in Tara and Eli's murders; there hasn't been enough time for the evidence they have to be processed nor the autopsies to be finished - until then, she's keeping an open mind. However, there's no doubt in her mind that somehow Teller and SAMCRO are at the root of this tragedy - just like the school shooting - and because of that, she'll stay on top of Jackson Teller until she has all the answers. And then someone will pay, and pay dearly._

* * *

><p>It's been a little over a month since Jax left Stockton - so happy to be reunited with Tara and his sons, so determined to get his family out of Charming and begin the beautiful life he desperately wants to give them, so ready to put his plans to leave SAMCRO in motion. But in just one goddamn day, all of those carefully laid plans have fucking blown up in his face.<p>

Bobby and Piney had warned them all that hooking up with Galindo was a fucking bad idea, that getting involved in muling drugs for a Mexican cartel would ultimately hurt the Club. But blinded by the promise of cashing out big, he pushed the vote forward - honestly believing that they could pull this off. What a delusional, fucking idiot he'd been.

He should've known that such an alliance would never work; when have these goddamn greed-driven schemes ever paid out in anything but blood? However, no one could've predicted the clusterfuck that went down today - not even with a goddamn crystal ball. Now he's got the CIA threatening to take him and his Brothers down with RICO if they don't continue supplying the Irish guns and muling Galindo's drugs. A Mexican drug cartel backed by the US government… what crazy-ass mind could've devised such shit?

Jax looks across the table at the empty chairs his Brothers had just vacated. The goddamn irony of it all - finally getting the President's patch when it's the last fucking thing he wants now. Staring at the gavel in his hand, he's not sure whether he wants to clutch it tight or hurl is across the room.

All he'd wanted was a safe way out of the Club - and to earn enough cash to take care of his family and give his boys the opportunities he never had. Yeah, he knew that, as a surgical specialist, Tara's making a shitload of money and could make even more away from St. Redneck's. But when he told her that he couldn't live off his wife - a complete asshole caveman thing to say, especially to someone as smart and accomplished as Tara - she understood right away, probably because she knows him better than anyone. He's never known - never considered - a livelihood outside of SAMCRO so it's vital for him to know that he can support his family doing something else; even more important for him to know that she believes he can do it. And so he threw his lot in with Clay - one of the biggest fucking mistakes he's ever made.

Clay. Just thinking of his stepfather boils Jax's blood and makes him wish he'd blown that son-of-a-bitch to hell when he first learned that Clay had dispatched Tig to kill Opie but murdered Donna by mistake. Then they wouldn't be in this fucking mess with Galindo, Piney would still be alive and Tara… Jesus Christ, that miserable fuck had hired a Mexican drug cartel to kill Tara. Yeah, Romeo and Luis turned out to be the CIA, but Clay didn't know that - he'd sic'd vicious killers on the girl Jax's loved forever, the mother of his young sons. Clay should die slowly and painfully just for that alone, cut into a million bloody pieces. Jax doesn't even want to think about the bastard's role in JT's death; he'd explode from the rage.

"Practicing your scary Biker King face?" So caught up in this thoughts, he doesn't hear Tara come in the room. She locks the door then leans against it, a slight smile teasing those pink lips. Although he can't imagine why she isn't mad as hell; he's broken yet another promise to her - he won't be leaving SAMCRO, won't be taking them out of Charming. Hell, if anything, he should be the one with a huge grin on his face. It had fucking killed him to tell her to take the boys and leave for Oregon, but she'd surprised him and shown up during Church to tell him that she wasn't going anywhere. He'd never felt so much relief in his life, even though deep down he knows the right thing to do would be to insist that she go; there's still too much danger here for her and the boys. But he couldn't do that if his life depended on it; he needs her too fucking much.

"Thought you would've gone home by now." He can't take his eyes off her as she walks towards him; Jesus, every time he thinks he couldn't possibly love her more, she proves him wrong every damn time. Most other people would've buckled under all the shit she's suffered just in the past couple of days: the terrifying abduction, the damage to her hand, the possible loss of her surgical career, the custody threats from his junkie whore ex-wife, Piney's murder…and now, the death of their dream to escape Charming together. But she's weathered it all, somehow emerging even stronger than ever before. Just like she always does.

Crouching in front of his chair, exactly like she did just an hour before, she wraps her uninjured hand around his. "Clay did some terrible things because of this chair, Jax. Unspeakable things." She looks over to the table, staring at the gavel that he'd dropped when he saw her and the President's patch that he'd sliced from Clay's cut. "All he saw was himself; all he cared about was getting what he wanted and securing his place at the head of this table. And because of this chair, he forgot about his family…" She turns and fixes her gaze squarely on him. "I know you've wanted this your whole life, Baby. Just promise me that you won't forget about us. Please."

Mesmerized by the earnest intensity in those green eyes, Jax lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing her soft skin. "I could never forget you, Tara, or our boys. I love you. I love Abel and Thomas. You're everything to me…"

She rewards him with a dazzling smile then slants her mouth over his, emptying his brain of everything except how much he loves the feel of her soft lips, the slide of her nimble tongue…and her soft hand opening his fly and freeing his dick from his boxers and jeans - rubbing and pulling and stroking him until he's rock hard and dying to be inside her.

"Tara…" he gasps; somewhere in his head there's a faint protest that they shouldn't fuck in here, but she crushes it to dust the second he feels her sucking the tip of his cock, lapping up all of his pre-come before taking the length of him into her mouth. Through desire-glazed eyes, Jax watches her go down on him; marinating in pleasure as her soft fingers fondle his balls and her hot mouth sucks hard on his dick.

She must've sensed how close he was to exploding because she pulls away and rises so he can help her pull off her jeans and underwear. But glancing at her broken hand, the thick cast peeking out from her sling, he hesitates. They've not touched each other like this since she got out of the hospital; the pain medication had made her groggy, and he'd been terrified of hurting her.

"It's okay, Baby," she assures him, stroking his face. "I need you. So much…"

Practically shaking with eagerness, he rolls his thumb to strum her slippery clit then slips two long fingers inside of her - sliding in and out until she's completely drenched. Then sliding to the edge of the chair, Jax gently tugs her down on to his lap until he's balls-deep inside his personal heaven, panting hard as he fights for control.

Running her fingers through his damp, tousled hair, Tara presses her lips to his ear. "When you're at this table, I want you to think about your family… and how much we need you." She clenches her inner muscles around his dick - making him moan louder and louder as she slowly, slowly starts to ride. Squeezing him tightly, she glides up and down his stiff cock while her hot breath tickles his ear. "…when you sit in this chair…I want you to remember how you feel…when you're inside of me."

Holy fucking shit...to his dazed surprise, he feels himself grow even harder, even more turned on. Tightening his grip on the chair arms, he flexes his ass and shoves his cock deeper inside of her - again and again and again - until he hears her screaming his name and feels her molten spasms throb violently around his exploding cock.

Gasping for breath, he clutches her tight and buries his face in her neck; his dick still pulsing and quivering inside her. He feels her fingers stroking the back of his head and her lips brushing against his ear. "…when you put on that patch…don't forget that I love you…so much…Promise me you won't forget…"

Lifting his head, he gazes at the beautiful, beloved face that's he's never forgotten and never will. Curling his fingers around her neck, he caresses her silky soft cheeks with his thumbs. "I won't forget, Babe. I promise."

* * *

><p>Another nightmare. Jax's eyes pop open as he huffs with relief to find himself lying in bed - not speeding into the path of an oncoming semi-truck, like his dad. Since reading JT's letters to Maureen Ashby, he's been haunted by memories of his old man - betrayed and murdered by one of his friends, one of his Brothers. His suppressed rage shoots to the surface again until he forces it down. One day very soon, Jax will make Clay atone for JT, for his mother, for Piney, for Tara…<p>

Tara. He realizes that he doesn't feel her nestled against him like she's always preferred to sleep ever since high school. Turning his head, he slides his hand across the empty space beside him; the cool sheets suggest that she's been gone for a while. Where the hell would she go? She's not on call at the hospital; they'd put her on medical leave for the next month. Rising out of bed, he slips on his boxers and pads barefoot into the hallway. He checks Abel and Thomas' rooms, only to find both his sons fast asleep - no sign of their mother. Closing Thomas' door, he walks towards the kitchen thinking maybe late night munchies have her raiding the fridge.

Then he hears it, faint but unmistakable, the sound of Tara crying; he's heard it too many heart-crushing times in the past few days - and, as always, it guts him more than anything. Alarmed, he rushes into the living room where he spots her sitting on the floor, her dark head bent as she sobs quietly into her uninjured hand.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Jax drops down next to her and pulls her into his arms, stroking her silky hair while pressing soothing kisses to her forehead. "Is it your hand? Do you need me to take you to St. Thomas?" Dr. Balian had assured them that she was okay to go home, that all she needed was time to heal. If Tara's doctor overlooked something that's now causing her pain, Jax's going ram the man's stethoscope up his ass.

She shakes her head, wiping her eyes. "It's my fault, Jax. Piney's dead because of me."

Jax stares at her, stunned that she could feel even remotely responsible; it was crystal-fucking-clear where the blame for Piney's death lay. "No, Tara. Clay murdered Piney. Had nothing to do with you."

His words of reassurance fall on deaf ears as tears continue to stream down her face. "When you were inside, I asked Piney about JT. Told him that I read some things your dad wrote; how afraid he was of Clay before he died. Piney told me to stop digging - that history had to stay dead. But I was scared, Jax. After I read those letters, I was afraid of what Clay and… what they might do to you if they knew that you wanted to follow your father's vision for the Club… so I had to find out… what they did to him."

_They?_ Jax's read his old man's letters at least half a dozen times since Gemma blindsided him with the horrifying litany of Clay's treachery. The only person that JT had implicated in those letters was Clay…Was there another Son involved in Clay's plans?

"It wasn't until after you guys got out that Piney started asking about what I'd read… so I told him about the letters - that JT wanted out of guns and had a meeting with the Irish set up…but then he died before the meeting could happen… I shouldn't have said anything to him, Jax. It got him killed - I got him killed." She buries her face into his chest, dissolving into choking sobs.

He squeezes her tighter, rubbing her back and shoulders trying to ease some of the tension brought on by grief. Then pulling away slightly, he cups her face and wipes away her tears with his thumbs. "Listen to me, Tara. Clay and Piney have been circling each other for years; hell, Piney even tried to shoot Clay once during Church. Their beef over the cartel was the last straw - Piney would've done anything to bring Clay down after that and, you said it yourself, Clay would've done anything to protect himself and his seat at the table. One of them was bound to go down after this, letters or no letters. So don't do this to yourself…Piney wouldn't have wanted that. He loved you, you know."

She stares at him for a moment, those mossy green eye bright with tears, then nods slowly. "I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." It takes Jax a second to realize that she's remembering how Piney had stopped her dad from beating her to death over the red model car she'd stolen for Tommy. "He never believed me when I'd say I fell down stairs or crashed my bike." A sad smile tugs at her pink lips. "Once I overheard him threatening my dad - said that he'd break every bone in my dad's body if I ever 'fell off my bike' again. Dad didn't believe him - not until that night..."

A red mist coats his vision as the decades' old fury surges through him; when Opie told him what Tara's old man had done to her, it was the first time in his twelve years that he truly thought he could fucking murder someone and feel good about doing it. But once again he tamps down his rage; it's the last thing she needs.

Twining his fingers with hers, Jax follows her gaze - and jolts in surprise to see an old photo of Tara and Piney taken during his sixteenth birthday party, the night he got his Prospect cut. "He threatened me too, you know," he chuckles at the distant memory, drawing a questioning look from her. "When he first found out about us, he told me that he'd rip my dick off if I treated you like a… well like all the others."

He grins as she giggles and burrows against him, rubbing her cheek against his chest. Lifting the photo closer, he can't help but laugh at the sight of a younger, tougher looking Piney with his big, meaty arm around tiny teenage Tara. "Shit, where'd you find this?"

"It was in that box." Tara points to a redwood strongbox that Jax instantly recognizes; it's where he's kept a few photos of JT and Tommy and a few hundred photos of Tara. Back in high school, he couldn't have enough pictures of her; some he'd taken himself or asked someone to take of the two of them, then there were others he'd bought (or stole) off various people who had pictures of her or of them. When Tara left Charming, his mother had railed at him to toss all those photos, insisting that he'd never get over her if he didn't stop obsessing. Instead he'd locked them all in that box and kept it hidden from Gemma, from everyone. Tara must have found the box when she'd redecorated their house while he was inside.

He feels a flush heat his neck knowing that she'd discovered the depths of his obsessive sentimentality and looks down to find her smiling softly at him, such undisguised adoration in her eyes that he finds it hard to speak. "I'm flattered, Teller." She lifts their linked hands and kisses his fingers. "I love you, too."

Unable to help himself, Jax claims that luscious pink mouth as he clings to her like a life line. Losing Piney's a huge blow that neither of them will be getting over any time soon. But as long as he has her, has his family - there's nothing he can't handle.

* * *

><p>It turns out that Tara's broken hand hasn't been his family's only traumatic fall-out from the CIA's aborted attempt to kidnap her. Abel had cried non-stop while Tara was in the hospital, despite assurances from him and Elyda that Mommy was fine. And according to the Prospect, Abel had burst into horrified tears at the sight of Tara's cast; only her calm explanation that she needs the cast to rest her bones had pacified him.<p>

Since she got out of the hospital, Abel's barely left her side - shadowing her constantly, as if terrified someone else might snatch his Mommy away from him. The other day, Jax'd come home early to find Elyda feeding Thomas; she'd told him that Tara was resting and Abel was playing in his room. But when he'd gone to check on Abel, he found his son's room empty. Acting on a hunch, he'd gone into his and Tara's bedroom to find her fast asleep - with Abel curled up next to her.

The worst usually comes at night when Abel refuses to let her go after story time, begging her to stay with him until he falls asleep. Jax's already lost count of the number of times he's found her asleep next to Abel and had to carry her to their own bed, unwilling (and unable) to sleep without her next to him.

Now after a month on medical leave, it's time for Tara to go back to work tomorrow. Because of her top-notch medical knowledge and gifted way with patients, Margaret Murphy's been able to create a new position for her with the hospital board's blessing. But he knows her return to St. Thomas will be rough on her, knowing that she won't be a surgeon - at least not for the foreseeable future. Sharp stabs of guilt pierce him every time he thinks about all the bad shit that's happened to her, because of him. It just increases his determination to pull the Club out of this RICO mess, away from Galindo and start earning legit so nothing can ever hurt his family again.

Letting himself into the house, he frowns at the faint burning smell. Abel hadn't been happy to learn that Mommy had to go back to work and wouldn't be spending everyday with him and Thomas anymore. So she'd declared today to be another special Abel Day; he suspects, not only to soothe Abel but herself as well - he knows how much she loves spending time with the boys. Unfortunately, he had to miss their pancake breakfast because of a meet with Romeo and Luis, but he'd pulled away for a couple of hours of cookie making before he's got to head back to the Clubhouse for Church.

"This batch will be much better, sweetie. I promise." He hears Tara voice coming from the kitchen.

Walking into the kitchen, he finds Abel coloring at the table while Tara's at the counter, holding Thomas in her good arm as she struggles to stir cookie dough with her broken hand.

"Where's Phil?" Jax frowns as the huge Prospect's nowhere in sight. He stops briefly to drop a kiss on Abel's head, before striding over to take Thomas from her. His frown deepens as he notices the strain on her face and the tears welling in her eyes. "Babe, what's wrong? Hey…" He takes the spoon from her hand, drops it on the counter, then tucks her against him.

"I sent him to the store for more chocolate chips," she mumbles into his chest. "I burned the first batch."

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, a small smile tugs at his lips. His girl's always been a high achiever, unable to stomach failure on any level - including cookie making. As usual, she's pushing herself too fucking hard. "It happens, Babe." He strokes her hair and kisses her forehead. "I'm sure Abel doesn't mind, do you buddy?" Abel looks up and grins at them before shaking his head. "You've got to take it easier on yourself."

But easier said than done; the words had barely left his mouth before Thomas reaches for her, forcing a chuckle from Jax. It's been clear since birth that Thomas' yet another Teller man to be completely magnetized to her - just like his namesake uncle, his older brother and his old man.

"Why don't you let me and Abel handle the heavy lifting?" He hands Thomas to her then picks up the bowl of cookie dough and spoon; walking over to the table, he places the bowl in front of an all-to-eager Abel. "You can tell us what to do."

Nodding, she beams at them before pressing a soft kiss to Thomas' cheek. Then lifting those gleaming green eyes, she shoots him that saucy smile that always, always spikes his pulse. "That goes for later, too - right, Baby?"

Feeling his clothes grow tight, Jax can't help but grin back. "Anything you want, Babe."

* * *

><p>"That's new." Opie nods at the thick, gold ring now adorning Jax's left hand; the ring that Tara had slid on his finger just a couple of hours ago. Hard to believe that just a couple of hours ago, he'd been on top of the world - finally, finally realizing the dream he's had since turning sixteen: wearing the President's patch and marrying Tara. Hell he'd told her that very thing the night he got his Prospect cut.<p>

"_We call this room The Chapel; it's where we have Church - our meetings." Jax leads her into the room featuring the long wooden table with the Reaper carved into the middle. Actually, as a Prospect, he'd only attend Church when specifically invited - but since he's trying to impress her, he keeps that little technicality to himself._

"_Wow, what a cool table." She slides her hand across the smooth wooden surface. "What happens during Church? Everyone talks about motorcycle stuff?"_

_To be honest, he's got no fucking clue since neither his old man, Clay nor any of the guys would ever tell him anything about Church. But again, admitting such a thing wouldn't sound very bad ass. "Yeah. Upcoming motorcycle shows, bike repair, all that kind of stuff. It's pretty fucking cool."_

_She smiles and nods politely, trying to be supportive even though she's clearly baffled by all this passion for motorcycles. He steers her to the head of the table. "This is the President's chair - where my old man used to sit, and where Clay sits now. And one day…" His fingers brush the gavel. "One day, I'll sit here."_

_She slides her hands up and down his brand new cut, her green eyes filled with pride and love for him. Pulse racing and heart pounding, he cups her soft cheeks. "And one day…I'm going to marry you. That's the endgame, Tara - you and me and a bunch of kids. We'll have the Club and our family. It'll be so great, Babe."_

_Her eyes widen in surprise as she gapes at him, probably not expecting a marriage proposal at the tender age of fifteen. But after last night and then again tonight as he watched her walk into the Clubhouse, he just knew. Tara Knowles is the one; the only one for him. She opens her mouth to respond, only to remain silent; then a brilliant smile lights up her beautiful face as she nods slowly then exuberantly, squealing happily when he lifts her off her feet and hugs her tight. _

However, a quick exchange of vows in a brothel hadn't been how he'd envisioned marrying the love of his life; he'd wanted to give her a big, beautiful wedding and show the whole fucking world that she belongs to him completely. But given the dire circumstances - his imminent arrest, the possibility of no protection in County, the dark fate that Damon Pope surely has in store for them behind bars - he wanted to know the joy of marrying Tara in case the worst happens.

And despite the somewhat trashy setting, the short ceremony had been perfect for them. Spellbound by the beautiful face he's loved forever, Jax felt everything but the two of them just fade away. Hearing Tara say "I do," gazing into those mossy green eyes glowing with love for him, sliding the gold wedding band on her finger - he'd never felt happier in his whole life, which was really saying something given the soaring emotional and physical highs he's known with her.

Sitting in a police transport on his way to Sanwa County Jail with three of his Brothers, however, is definitely not how he envisioned his wedding night with her. But at least they've secured protection inside, provided Romeo and Luis hold up their end. Jax's fucking determined that they all make it back out; he's got way too much to live for - his sons, his Club and _his wife_.

Realizing that he's been mooning over his wedding ring like a lovesick dumbfuck, looks up at Opie. "Yeah, it was totally spur of the moment. Just felt like the right time."

"Congrats." Opie eyes him knowingly, not a bit fooled by Jax's attempt at nonchalance. "Frankly, I'm surprised you waited this long. When you first told me she moved back to town, I half-expected you to tie her to your bike and ride hell for leather all the way to Vegas." Opie snorts, shaking his head. "Don't even bother to try denying, Bro; I know you thought about it."

No. Okay, maybe once or twice. Jax glances over at Chibs and Tig, annoyed to find both his Brothers smirking at him. Scowling at all three of them, he switches gears. "Are the kids with Mary?"

"Lyla. They love her and Piper."

Jax nods, not entirely sure what to say. He'd really hoped that Opie and Lyla could make it work, and for a little while the two of them seemed happy. But sadly, he's not really surprised they'd called it quits; Jax knows better than most how the most precious things in life just can't be replaced, no matter how hard you try. Donna was ingrained in Opie's soul, just like Tara owned his. And when she died, she took most of Opie with her; leaving the part of him that remained broken, empty and desperate to rebuild everything he'd lost. But although Lyla's a sweet girl who truly seems to love him, she wasn't Donna - no matter how hard Opie tried to make it so.

"Well, hopefully it won't be for long," Jax assures him. "We've got protection inside. Lowen will get us bail, and I'll straighten this shit out with Pope." His gaze travels back to his wedding ring; fuck, he's got to fix this. No goddamn way will he let Pope end him and his Brothers - not when the future with his family and with his Club burns so bright.

Looking over at Opie, he shoots his best friend a wry smile. "I promised Tara that we'd do something for everyone. So you'd better decide whether you'd rather be best man or maid of honor."

After a few long moments, Opie returns a small, sad smile. "I'll let you know…" Then the smile vanishes as Opie stares hard at him, eyes intense. "So this is me bein' you, playing back your words…'Hold on to that shit'…Hold on to the things that really matter, Brother. Because once they're gone, really gone - nothing'll ever be right again."

* * *

><p>While he was in Stockton, Jax re-discovered his forgotten passion for reading - a love he'd picked up from his old man and fueled by Tara, an avid bookworm for as long as he can remember. In those fourteen months, he must've devoured a hundred books - maybe more - for not only would Tara send him a couple of selections each week, he'd often troll the prison library to find others. There were even some books that he'd read more than once, going over favorite passages again and again. And now, it's one of those lines that he can't seem to get out of his head…<p>

_Life is a storm…You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next.*_

Two days ago he basked in that sunlight - marrying Tara after almost two decades of wanting, holding her close after they'd exchanged vows, reveling in the fact that his gorgeous girl's finally now his wife. He's never known more joy, more completeness than in those moments.

Only to be shattered by pain and rage and crushing loss the very next day - watching helplessly while those fucking murderous bastards brutally beat his best friend to death. He's never known more anger, more grief than in those moments. And no matter how many times he tells himself and the others that Opie'd been looking for a way out since Donna's death - he can't get past the choking pain and blistering fury, can't stop re-living the last few minutes of Opie's life, can't block the images of Opie's bloody face right before that last deadly blow.

He'd taken off on his bike immediately after the wake, unable to be around anyone - not his Brothers, not his mother, not even Tara. He desperately needs the solitude, the open road, the high speeds; hoping like hell to out-run all the screaming demons threatening to rip him apart. Because one of the first things his old man taught him about riding was that - at top speeds - all that mattered was the road in front of you; anything else was a distraction that could get you killed. He's got to clear his head, control his violent rage and burning hate until he can channel it at the right time…and when he does, he'll make sure those goddamn fucking pricks die for what they did to Opie - and die bloody.

_What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes.*_

* * *

><p>Tara's still awake when he gets home - waiting for him, worried for him. She says nothing as he walks through the door, just rises off the couch, wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him tight. Long moments crawl by as he just holds her, burying his face against her warm neck. For as long as he can remember, he could always find comfort with Tara; somehow, she could always make things better for him when nothing else could. Slowly, he feels the frozen ice around his heart start to thaw.<p>

Gripping her uninjured hand, he's about to lift it to his lips when she hisses in pain. Alarmed, he looks down at the bruised and scraped skin. "Tara, what the hell…" His eyes narrow with anger; what fucking, soon-to-be-dead shitbag did this to her?

"It's nothing, Baby. Just fell down some stairs." She tries to tug her hand from his grasp, but he holds on - as gently as possible to keep from hurting her any more.

Scowling, he shakes his head; years ago, he fell for that lie and many others - no fucking chance now. "Goddamn it, Tara. You have to tell me…"

"I'm fine. Seriously, I didn't know those steps were there; almost fell on my face." He doesn't buy that story for one fucking second; but he's too tired to push her. He'll get the truth soon enough.

Clasping his hand, she leads him down the hall to their bedroom. Pulling the door shut behind him, he stands still as she slides his cut off shoulders and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Together, they strip him to his boxers then she pushes him to sit on the edge of her side of the bed. He shifts so he's leaning against the wooden headboard so she can straddle his lap.

"I'm so sorry, Baby." She cups his jaw, stroking his lower lip with her thumb. "I miss him, too."

He stares into her beautiful face, at her even paler cheeks and swollen, red-rimmed eyes; finally realizing how agonizing Opie's death must be for her, too. Opie and Tara - he's always seen them as his best friend and his soul mate, often forgetting that the two of them have had their own bond since childhood.

"Did he ever tell you that _he_ knew that I liked you before _I _did?" She muses, tugging on his goatee.

Smiling faintly, Jax shakes his head. "Just that you'd been madly in love with me since first grade. Although he waited twelve years to tell me…and only because he knew I was scared you were running off to that conference in San Jose to break up with me."

"Well, I don't know about _'madly'_…" She rolls her eyes in true Opie fashion. "It was right after you kissed me that first time…at recess."

"Really? How'd he know from that?" For over a week afterwards, Jax'd avoided her like green vegetables on his dinner plate because all his friends had given him so much shit; he couldn't admit to them - or himself - how _not_ terrible it felt to kiss her, how his heart had thumped so loud in his chest that it made him dizzy.

"Because I punched all the other boys who kissed me before - or tried to…" She grins and ruffles his hair as his face hardens into a scowl. "Baby, it was first grade. Let it go…" She kisses him softly, and he feels his irritation fade away. "Yeah, Opie figured it out and told me that, for a small price, he'd let me know whenever you were coming over to his house. Coincidently, it was right around the time I learned how to make boxed brownies…"

He tries to chuckle because that was just so like Opie. But suddenly a wave of grief overwhelms him - not only for the loss of his friend, but for the fucking pain Opie'd endured the final few weeks of his life: ending his short marriage - his last desperate grasp at happiness, finding out about Jax's deception and plan to leave SAMCRO, losing his father to Clay's murderous attempts to keep the gavel. His best friend had deserved better from life, had deserved better from him.

"Hey…" Tara caresses his face, those mossy green eyes fixed on his. "Stay with me, Baby. I love you. I love you…"

Seventeen years ago, when Mary Winston took Opie away with her, Tara had been there for him - just like this. He'd spent the better part of that afternoon and that night beside her and inside of her; basking in her love to make the pain go away. Those same memories must've flashed through her mind because she kisses him again, but this time her tongue slips between his lips to rub against his.

"I love you more." He deepens the kiss and slides his hands under her tank top to cup her breasts, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs. Groaning, he pulls away so he can carefully tug the tank top over her cast, then over her head. For a few long seconds he savors the sight of those lush pink-tipped mounds before drawing a rosy nipple into his mouth, loving the feel of the velvety crest hardening against his tongue.

"Jax," she moans as he suckles each breast, kissing and licking her nipples over and over. He rolls them over until he looms above her, pulling off her yoga pants as she slides his boxers down his ass so he can kick them away. Staring into those hypnotic green eyes, he pushes deep inside of her as those long legs wrap around his waist - squeezing him tight as she meets his slow, lingering thrusts.

Holy Christ, there's nothing in the fucking universe that feels as goddamn good as her tight, wet inner muscles gripping his pumping cock; especially when coupled with her stiff nipples rasping against his chest and her plush mouth sucking on his neck. That is, nothing except the searing, mindblowing orgasm that engulfs them both at the same time; his balls jetting streams of hot come inside of her as she milks him dry.

He may not be sixteen any more, but somehow his body and his dick seem to forget that when he's around her. For the rest of the night, she keeps his demons at bay; making love to him over and over until he slumps, exhausted and drained, into her arms. But instead of falling asleep, he feels the grief consume him again.

"It's okay, Baby. Let it out," she whispers to him as he buries his wet face into her shoulder and starts to sob. "Whatever happens, I'm right here."

* * *

><p>*from <em>The Count of Monte Cristo <em>by Alexandre Dumas


	13. You Being with Me

**Chapter 12: ****You Being with Me Is Not Some Kind of Accident**

"_The investigation into Sheriff Roosevelt and Dr. Knowles' murders is still open. I'm not at liberty to discuss any of the details." Patterson feeds Teller's lawyer the standard line she always uses when she's not ready or willing to divulge more information about a case than absolutely necessary. Just insert the victims' names. Although she knows that these aren't any ordinary victims, nor will this be any ordinary case._

_Rosen accepts her response with a smile, probably because he knows that she doesn't have enough evidence to point the finger at Teller, not yet anyway. "Fair enough. So then how about we talk about the deal Jax made to surrender himself in order to protect Tara? I think we can both agree that's off the table now. It is sweet, you know; the things a man will say and do to protect the woman he loves."_

_Patterson glares at him; this was definitely not a chance meeting. It's clear now that Rosen had been thoroughly briefed before approaching her - his sole purpose to extract Teller from the deal that would've sent him to prison by implying that Jax would do anything, like offering a false confession, to keep Tara safe. She knew this would happen the minute she'd walked into the Tellers' kitchen and saw him cradling his dead wife, but it doesn't make her any less furious; there's no way to enforce that deal now._

_Before she can respond, Cane approaches them and asks to speak to her privately. Rosen takes it as his cue to leave, but not before telling Patterson that he'll contact her soon to finish their conversation. Waiting until the lawyer's out of earshot, Cane breaks the news: "Teller's awake."_

* * *

><p><em>Tara's pissed. Jax could tell right away as she marches up to them with Tommy in tow, green eyes snapping with temper as she glares at him and Opie.<em>

"_Your dads told you to stop playing with those homemade firecrackers." She shakes her head as Opie opens his mouth then pokes him in the chest. "Don't even try to lie to me, Harry Winston. I know you and Jackson put those firecrackers in Mrs. Conroy's watermelon patch. They blew up everywhere. There's watermelon parts all over her backyard."_

"_You didn't rat on us, did you?" Opie looks worriedly at Jax then back at her, knowing that this particular transgression would have big ass repercussions for the both of them. After an unfortunate incident in the park that had Chief Unser confiscating their homemade explosives, JT and Piney had forbidden them from setting off any more custom-made fireworks in town since some of the parts weren't exactly legal. Both dads had promised dire consequences if Jax and Opie disobeyed them. DIRE consequences._

_However, old Mrs. Conroy's watermelon patch was far too big of a temptation for them to resist; those suckers were fucking huge. He and Opie had waited until the Winston's other next door neighbor left for her job at the public library before staging their pyrotechnic garden show. And it'd been fucking awesome. Hugely satisfied with the results, they'd left the carnage behind to hang out with some of their other friends. They'd been popping wheelies down the block when Tara came stalking over._

"_No, but I should." She always says that, but she's never squealed on them. Not once. And in their eleven years, she's seen them do a lot of crazy shit. "Mrs. Conroy was just at your house, Opie. She told Piney that she came home for lunch, saw the mess in her backyard and just knew that you guys did it after what happened in the park. She's really mad - said she wants you and Jax to spend the rest of the summer in Stockton juvie." Tara shakes her head in irate exasperation. "You guys are lucky that we overheard her yelling. I told her and Piney that the two of you were with me and Tommy all morning at my house. So make sure you get the story straight."_

_He and Opie both let out huge sighs of relief. No doubt that neither of them would see daylight for weeks, maybe even months, if they got caught. "Thanks, Tara." Jax shoots her a grateful smile. Next to Opie, she's definitely the coolest kid he knows._

_She doesn't return the smile, narrowing her eyes as she taps her foot in irritation. "If you really want to thank me, you'd volunteer to help clean up her backyard, which is a disaster - thanks to you guys. It's the least you can do."_

"_That would be dumb," Joey Laskey, one of their bike riding buddies, sneers at her. "No one would ever believe Jax and Opie would just 'volunteer' to clean up that shit. You really are a stupid bitch, just like your old man says."_

_Jax watches as hurt fills her green eyes, and fury surges through him. Before anyone else can say or do anything, he jumps off his bike and slugs Joey across the face, knocking him to the ground. Standing over his "friend," Jax clenches his fists as Joey rolls around in pain, clutching his bloody and hopefully broken nose. "Don't you ever talk that way about Tara again. You hear me, asshole? I'll break your whole goddamn face next time." Then turning to face Tara, Tommy and Opie, he feel his ears grow hot to find them all staring at him in open-mouth shock._

"_Oh, Jax…" Tara whispers, clearly torn between the horror of him beating a kid in front of her and gratitude for doing it in defense of her. Then squeezing Tommy's shoulder, she starts to lead him away. "Come on, Toms. Let's go see if Mrs. Conroy needs our help." As they leave, she looks over her shoulder at Jax; flashing a soft smile that warms him all the way down to his bones._

_Hesitating for a moment, Jax tosses one last disgusted look at Joey - who's still writhing on the ground; then nodding at Opie, he whips his bike around. "Hey Tara, wait up!"_

Jesus Christ, enough! Riding to Lodi to confront his runaway wife, Jax's not sure why that particular memory surfaces now, but he shoves it aside. He doesn't have the goddamn space in his head or his heart for such fucking sentimentality. Not now, maybe not ever again. There's no fucking space inside him for anything but cold rage.

Yeah, he'd been pissed to find out about the Mayans starting a charter in Stockton, even more so to learn from Nero that Juice had betrayed him. But all of that's small shit compared to the goddamn empty house he'd discovered last night. Tara had left him. Again. This time, taking his sons so he'd not only lost her, but his family as well. Enraged, he'd destroyed Abel's room then took off to pound his fury out on the road - pushing his bike to max speeds, trying once again to out-run his demons. It'd been a fucking good thing that no cops were around to pull him over; he might've killed any poor bastard unlucky enough to get in his face.

Shit, it's not as if he hadn't seen this coming; why else would he have taken the boys out of day care, ordered Rat to shadow Tara everywhere - pretty much turning her into a virtual prisoner. He knows that she, and everyone else, thinks he'd gone to such extremes to keep her from making a deal to rat on the Club in exchange for her freedom. And for the most part, they'd be right. He'd also been desperately trying to hang onto his family.

But it'd been a fucking futile exercise; in painful retrospect, he realizes that he lost Tara the night Roosevelt arrested her for complicity in Pamela Toric's murder. When she refused to let him visit her in jail, he'd been livid - and terrified that this last blow had finally killed her love for him; Christ, he'd pushed her to the limit so many times before. He couldn't help but recall his time in Stockton when he'd lived for her weekly visits; sorely needing to see her, touch her, know her love for him ran as deep as his for her. But when their situations reversed, she'd reverted back to that fiercely independent girl who didn't need anyone - least of all him. Bitterly stung, he hadn't handled the rejection well - to say the least - regressing to his dark days of fucking whores as surrogates for her. More vile shit to add to his rapidly growing pile of self-hate.

His fear had intensified when she'd come home, emotionally distant and incapable of saying that she loved him. He'd made love to her that first night, desperate to re-connect their bond; as if giving her pleasure could bring back his warm and vibrant Tara - his beautiful wife who once said she'd love him forever. He'd found his release, gasping her name and how much he fucking loved her so goddamn much; only to see tears on her cheeks as she softly replied "Me, too" before rolling to her side to go to sleep - away from him. Almost as if she'd known about his rank betrayal while she suffered in jail for trying to save him and his Brothers.

Only when she was with Abel and Thomas did he see love glow openly in her green eyes. With the boys, she'd laughed and giggled, sang songs and read stories - and told them over and over how much she loved them. Shit, there had to be a special place in hell for a grown man who jealously begrudged his young sons their mother's love. Unable to deal with the distance growing between them, he'd buried himself in the Club - sinking deeper into the darkness and the violence as he pushed his agenda forward.

Jax guns his Dyna's engine, pushing up the speed as his mind fills with the unbidden image of Tara's hurt and bewildered face outside Diosa after catching him screwing that old whore. He'd been crazed with fury when he discovered her plan to divorce him and hand over guardianship of their boys to Wendy - Wendy, that shitbag junkie, of all people. He's not sure which infuriated him more: that Tara had lied to him, played him for a goddamn chump or because she'd trusted that foul bitch and not him. So he'd tried to punish her; ironically resorting to the same fucked-up means that Opie had used when he found Lyla's birth control pills. _"Your solution to a problem will always be a club solution,"_ Bobby had warned him. Jax had scoffed, arguing that he could change. Apparently not.

Perversely, he'd felt a fleeting rush of satisfaction while Tara beat the shit out of Collette. He told himself that she wouldn't have been so outraged, wouldn't have busted that whore's face if she didn't still love him. Hell, it'd almost been like a scene from high school - when she'd smack down the croweaters and skanks from school who'd chase after him; when he'd fucking stomp the hell out of any guy who'd try to take her away from him, or even stare at her too long. Because she loves him as intensely as he loves her, they've always been wildly possessive of one another - then and now. And so he'd hoped that maybe, just maybe, they still had a chance. After spending that night watching her sleep on the futon in Thomas' room, it'd become clear to him why she'd gone to the lengths she had.

"_Is there anything that you love so much that you'd protect it, no matter the cost; the damage it did to you?"_ He'd once asked her so she'd understand what the Club meant to him. _"Yeah, a child,"_ she'd responded. She'd worried about Abel growing up in SAMCRO; a worry that redoubled once Thomas was born. So when faced with the prospect of a long-term prison sentence, she'd resorted to desperate measures to ensure the boys' safety because she no longer trusted him to do the right thing for their family.

As he stared at her beautiful tear-streaked face, Jax told himself that he could win her trust back. He just had to convince her that he could still give her the beautiful life that he'd promised. Once he and his Brothers carried out their plan to rid the Club of the Irish, of the guns, then he'd find a way to get her clear of those bullshit charges. All he had to do was keep her with him; make her feel safe again.

He'd probably been fucking deluding himself, but in past couple of days she'd given him some small signs that sent hope pumping through him. The other night, when the Club voted Mayhem for Clay, he'd blown the bastard to hell - finally getting justice for JT, Piney, his mom and Tara. However, afterwards he'd been shaken by prickles of regret and remorse as unwanted memories of Clay filled his mind - teaching him to fix motorcycles while JT was gone on his many trips to Ireland, going with him pick out his first Dyna, helping him find Abel and Tara when they were kidnapped…he'd almost buckled from more guilt, more self-hate. But then suddenly, as if she knew the shit storm brewing inside him, Tara had squeezed his hand and - like always - her soft touch had soothed him, made the bad shit go away.

"_After your trial, we're going to figure all this out."_ As he watched her work tirelessly to save Bobby, he'd felt such a surge of longing for her, for how they used to be. Especially when she'd pulled him into her arms, hugging him so tight that the emotions he'd been holding at bay for so long broke loose as he buried his face into her shoulder.

"_I'm sorry,"_ she'd whispered - so much pain and regret in those two words. At the time, he'd thought she'd been apologizing for the fake pregnancy and miscarriage; he'd already forgiven her for that the minute he'd stared into her pain-filled face outside of Diosa and as he watched her cry in her sleep later that night. Now he wonders if she'd been apologizing for what she'd already done or for what she'd planned to do.

Entering the Lodi city limits, Jax once again shoves aside all the memories cluttering his head. When they reach their destination, he parks his bike, pulls off his helmet and nods to Happy to follow him. Walking past Tara's SUV, he doesn't allow himself to think of all the happy times they've had in that enclosed space - with the boys and with each other.

No, all he's got now is rage - fucking ice cold, choking rage from knowing that she'd agreed to rat on the Club, that she'd taken his sons away…but most of all, that she'd stopped loving him.

* * *

><p>"<em>Man are you sure about this?" Opie looks at him uncertainly as they stand in Mrs. Conroy's driveway waiting for Tara and Tommy. Since he and Ope rode their bikes, they get to the old librarian's house much faster than Tara, who'd had to walk slowly to keep pace with his five-year-old brother.<em>

_No, he's not sure at all. Jax darts a quick glance at Mrs. Conroy's front door and thinks about making a run for it; then he spots Tara and Tommy rounding the corner, chattering and laughing non-stop. It always makes him smile, watching the two of them; Tara always seems to know what to say and do to transform his usually quiet baby brother into a laughing chatterbox. Hell, she always seems to know what to say and do all the time. So if she thinks spending an afternoon playing yard boys is the right thing to do AND (most importantly) would save their asses from the "dire consequences" their dads promised, then that's what they'll do. Sure as hell beats spending the rest of the summer in a hot TM office as his mom's bitch._

"_Yeah." He nods at Opie, trying to come up with what he could possibly say to the old librarian, who's never had anything but stink eyes for him and Opie ever since second grade when they'd "borrowed" their classroom hamsters and set them free in the library to see how quickly people would start screaming._

_However, Tara's got a different plan. "Let me do the talking," she tells them, as if she doesn't trust them to fuck up a fabricated explanation. He's slightly offended - until he listens to Tara as she earnestly sells Mrs. Conroy on a total bullshit story about him and Opie feeling bad that some other kids had copied their harmless prank from the park. By the time she finishes her tale, Mrs. Conroy's beaming at him and Opie like her long-lost grandsons and offers to make them brownies while they work._

_In the end, it wasn't a bad afternoon. Despite the complete grossness of picking up sticky watermelon rinds, slimy melon innards and millions and millions of seeds - they'd had a blast. Jax'd smeared a pile of slushy red melon on his white t-shirt and pretended to have Alien explode out of his stomach. Tara had shrieked with laughter then teasingly scolded him that he shouldn't scare Opie (who'd closed his eyes pretty much the whole time when the three of them had watched the movie). So, of course, the natural thing for Jax to do was to chase Opie around the yard with a handful of mushy melon guts so that Alien could break out of his friend's stomach, too._

"_You're a good man, Charlie Brown." Tara grins at him after they'd finished the clean-up and the brownies. "You, too, Linus." She pats Opie's arm as they start heading towards the Knowles and Winston houses._

"_Hey, why the fuck am I Linus?" Opie grouses. "You see a blanket anywhere?"_

"_I'm sure your dorky Transformers blanket is around here somewhere…" Jax pipes in, making a mental note to keep his own Batman blanket out of sight if either of these guys show up at his house._

"_You'd rather be Charlie Brown?" Tara turns to Opie, quirking a brow. "A bald kid who can't kick a football?"_

"_Hey wait a minute, then why the fuck am I Charlie Brown?" Jax complains._

_She rolls her eyes. "It's just an expression, Teller…Oh no…" He follows her horrified gaze to her old man's Cutlass parked in the Knowles' driveway. "Look, I got to go," she tells them, growing even paler as she looks at the watch on her shaking wrist. Dropping down, she ruffles Tommy's hair and pecks him on the forehead before running off to her house. "See you guys tomorrow!"_

_But Jax and Opie don't see her tomorrow or the next day or the next. Only Tommy, who'd banged on her door until she let him inside - and who'd later tell him that Tara got a black eye, a big bruise on her face and a "cussion" from slipping and falling on the kitchen floor while making dinner. _

Jax keeps his eyes fixed on Tara's SUV as he follows her to the motel that she and their sons had used as a safe haven last night. A save haven from him. His mind flinches in pain as he remembers the sheer terror that had spread across her face as she watched him approach her in the park. In their long history, he's seen those green eyes reflect so many different emotions that she's felt for him: love, affection, trust, desire, joy, sadness, anger…but never once had she looked at him in fear. Until now. Jesus Christ, it guts him to the core to realize that she'd looked at him the same way - shaking with terror and panic - that she'd looked at Kohn…and her old man. Men she'd trusted to love her, only to be terrorized and brutalized in return.

It'd taken everything he had inside of him to maintain the implacable composure he needed - he couldn't afford to go soft on her, not with so much at stake; he couldn't allow her to bring down his Club. But he'd been no fucking match for her tearful bravery as she confronted him, blowing him away with her unrelenting honesty.

"_The gavel turns shit around."_ Both Opie and Tara had warned him about the darkness that comes from wielding such power. But instead of turning away, he'd embraced it, thrived on it. In the dismal days of his estrangement from Tara, he'd let the Club consume him, and in doing so he'd lost her because she could no longer see the man she loved in the savage, the monster, he'd become.

The night he first took the gavel, Tara had begged him not to follow Clay's dark path - begged him not to forget his family. Shit, it'd seemed like such an easy promise to make since she and their boys were always in his thoughts; he loved them more than anything. But as he sat across from her at that picnic table, it'd hit him hard to realize that he'd broken his promise - despite the countless images of her that never left him, he'd forgotten Tara Knowles.

In pursuing his vision for the Club, he'd forgotten about the little girl who grew up with fear and violence and how that little girl, with the widest and deepest protective streak in the universe, would go to the ends of the earth for the people she loved, despite the personal cost. He'd forgotten that she'd grown into a strong and selfless mother who'd do anything and everything to ensure that her little boys wouldn't know the fear and violence that now pervaded their father's life and could be their SAMCRO destiny as well. She'd do anything and everything to keep her baby boys safe. Even if it killed her.

"_Please don't... hurt me in front of the kids."  
><em>"_Can you let me say good-bye to them before you take me?"  
><em>Replaying their confrontation in the park, he feels his eyes sting; she'd honestly thought he'd come there to kill her in order to protect his Club, truly believing that he'd actually murder her in front of their sons. Yeah, he'd been in a rage when he'd tracked her down, but all he wanted to do was talk to her - convince her not to betray him and his Brothers. There's no fucking way that he'd ever physically hurt her, not in a million goddamn years. Blinking furiously, he tries to clear the wetness coating his eyes. How in fucking hell had they grown so far apart? He's loved her for most of his life; wanted nothing more than to give her a family, give her everything.

"_I have sacrificed everything for you…I have tried... to see what you see, how you see it…" _But as he sat there listening to her, it'd struck him with horrifying clarity that their love has always been on his terms; he'd made it clear to her that if she wanted to be with him, she had to accept his life: Charming, the Club, his mother. Even when he'd schemed to leave SAMCRO and move away with his family, it'd been on his timetable, according to his plan. And when Opie died, and he decided to stay for good, he fully expected her to comply - because she loved him.

It'd been humbling and shattering to realize that, throughout their relationship, she'd always been the one to make all the compromises and sacrifices to keep them together. Only her desire for a better life for herself, a better life for their sons had driven her to leave him each time. At that point, he'd decided it was about fucking time for him to step up and be the man who - long ago - promised that he'd always love and protect her.

He pulls into the motel parking lot and parks his bike next to her SUV; pulling off his helmet, he surveys all the empty parking spaces. After telling Tara that he wasn't going to hurt her or their boys, he'd asked her to call Patterson and arrange a meeting. It was time to do the right thing.

"Are you sure about this?" She opens the door to her motel room then turns to stare at him, her green eyes troubled and wary. She'd been stunned when he told her what he'd planned to do, and when he'd asked to talk to her lawyer.

It takes all of his self-control to keep from pulling her into his arms and hold tight until all her worry and distrust disappear. Instead he shoves his hands into his pockets and nods. "Yeah."

* * *

><p>"<em>So Piney tells me that someone set off illegal fireworks in Mrs. Conroy's watermelon patch." From the head of the dinner table, Jax's dad looks at him pointedly. "Wonder who could've done such a thing…"<em>

_Jax's hands shake slightly as he scoops meatloaf onto his plate then passes the dish to his mom. Summoning his innocent face, he shrugs his shoulders and starts to shovel his dinner into his mouth._

"_Good thing that Tara vouched for you and Opie, or I'd hate to think about what the rest of your summer might look like." JT takes a bite of his dinner roll, not once taking his eyes off Jax. "So what'd you guys do all day…Tommy?"_

_Jax nearly chokes on his meatloaf as he tries to answer his dad's question before Tommy can fuck up their story. But unless he spits out his food (which would be just a little bit obvious), he can't clear his mouth enough to say anything. So instead he chews faster and stares hard at his little brother. Hard._

"_Colored pictures. Watched cartoons. Read stories. Ate lunch. Ate cookies…" Tommy smiles artlessly as he counts off his day's activities on his small fingers while JT continues to munch on his dinner roll, eyes not once leaving Jax's face. "…Read more stories. Cleaned melon guts. Ate brownies…"_

"'_Cleaned melon guts did you?" JT takes a sip of his beer. "Why's that?"_

_Before Jax can respond, his mom dives into the conversation. "So that explains the weird message on the answering machine. Judith Conroy - the town librarian, of all people - wants to invite us to dinner to thank Jax for being an 'angel' and cleaning her backyard."_

_Oh shit. Jax feels his neck grow hot and his summer freedom slip away. No fucking way will his old man buy that BS. Scooping another forkful of meatloaf into his mouth, he chews slowly to buy himself the time to come up with something, anything to save himself._

"_Let me guess…Tara's idea?" JT shakes his head, a slight smile tugging his lips. "She's a real smart girl. Good thing you listened to her; she saved your ass this time. You're lucky she puts up with you guys. Hang on to her…"_

"I love you." Jax lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he stares into those green eyes glowing with love for him; he'd waited so goddamn long and wanted so fucking much to hear her say those words to him again.

Unable to wait another second, he claims her mouth, plundering ravenously as his pounding heart threatens to jump out of his fucking chest in excitement. Goddamn, no one on this planet can take him to the heights she does, just from the feel of her lips on his.

Coming up for air, he searches her beautiful face, melting completely as she smiles softly at him. Within seconds they're on the bed, kissing hungrily as they strip each other bare. Tearing his mouth from hers, he glides his lips down her neck, nipping at that sensitive spot that he knows drives her crazy. He smiles as she moans his name, then moans himself as he feels her soft fingers fondle his balls and massage his dick.

He indulges in the sensation for a few long moments before pulling her hand away. "Fuck, you make me crazy…don't want to come yet, Babe." Breathing hard, he presses his lips against her throat.

"Okay, Baby." She twines her fingers in his hair as he continues his trek down to her lush, pink-tipped breasts that've figured prominently in the X-rated dreams of her that've invaded his sleep these past few weeks (and since he was fourteen). Filling his hands with her soft fullness, he drags his tongue across each rosy nipple, licking and sucking those velvety tips again and again until he hears her breathing grow louder, choppier and feels her hot, damp mound rub up against his cock.

Sliding further down her body, he drapes her long legs over his shoulders and buries his face between her soft thighs, lapping up the wetness before latching his mouth onto her clit and sucking strongly. "Oh god, Jax!" she screams, tightening her legs around him as he reaches up to cup her breasts - stroking her nipples and suckling her clit until she comes apart, moaning his name over and over. And how she loves him so much. So fucking much.

Looming above her, he spreads her thighs wide and plunges deep inside her soaking wet heat. "Holy fuck, Tara," he groans against her throat as her strong fingers grip his ass, pushing him deeper inside of her. "Oh Jesus, Babe," he gasps; pumping faster, harder as she arches up to meet his thrusts. "Love you…" he grits out, feeling his balls tighten right before his cock erupts, flooding her. "More…Than…Anything…"

"Granola bars and goldfish crackers…You really know how to treat a guy, Babe," he squeezes her ass, as she straddles his thighs, feeding him the last of the stash from her purse.

Grinning, she wraps her arms around his neck and licks the crumbs clinging to his lips. "So I should start carrying beef jerky and chili cheeseburgers?" Then, as if remembering what happened in this room earlier, the playful sparkle in her eyes vanishes as pained regret spreads across her face.

"Hey, none of that." Jax frames her face, stroking her soft cheeks with his thumbs. "We're going to be fine, Babe. It's the right thing to do. For the boys, for our family…If your lawyer's right, I'll get parole after just a few years." He hesitates as uncertainty grips him. After everything that's happened - everything she's gone through because of him, because of the Club - he knows he's got no right, no fucking right at all to expect anything more from her.

She smiles sadly. "I guess I know the drill." She strokes his goatee. "Every Saturday morning. The boys and I will be there, Baby. Every week." Then correctly anticipating the question he's suddenly to afraid to ask, she presses her forehead against his. "We have a lot of issues to work out, Jax. But I guess we'll have the time to do that."

"Yeah..." He runs his hand through her short hair, loving the silky feel. It's not exactly the answer he wants, but it's much better than it could've been. Much better than he deserves.

Caressing his face, she kisses him - slowly, deeply - shooting yearning heat all the way down to his bones. "You ready for me, Teller?" She flashes him that saucy smile that, just a few hours before, he never thought he'd see again. Beyond grateful, he rubs against her so she can feel exactly how ready he is; then lifting her slightly, he impales her on his oh-so-ready cock.

"I'd say that's a yes…" Shifting, she wraps her long legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, pressing herself tightly against him.

"Hell yes," he growls against her mouth. Folding his legs (just like she taught him during an especially memorable yoga session), he runs his hands up and down her silky smooth back as he rocks back and forth inside of her; basking in fucking hot ecstasy as her slick inner muscles clench his pulsing dick. His hands glide down to cradle that delectable ass, pushing her even closer to him. Until there's no space between them. None.

Christ he loves - fucking, fucking loves - this tight connection to her. In his entire life, he's never felt even the smallest fraction of this electrifying pleasure, this bone-deep completeness with anyone but Tara Knowles. It's as if those gorgeous green eyes marked him as hers the minute they met so long ago; he's never loved anyone in the heart-and-soul consuming way that he loves her, and he knows he never will.

Her breathing hitches as he grinds himself against her clit, over and over. "So close, Baby….Come with me…Now..." She licks his lips then squeezes his cock - drawing loud, exhilarated moans from him. Gazing at her beautiful face - into those unforgettable eyes - he tightens his grip on her ass; rocking faster, thrusting deeper until they're both consumed by the intense, searing ecstasy that they've only known with each other.

For long, long moments they hold each other tight; neither of them willing to let the other go, as if desperately wanting to delay their inevitable separation. Still wedged inside of her, he kisses her bare shoulder then nuzzles her neck - savoring her scent and baby soft skin; his fingers stoking her lower back, where that crow tattoo still brands her as his. His forever.

"I love you, Jax." Tara kisses him softly, affirming his possessive claim. "I always have. There's never really been anyone else for me. Just you. Always you." She bites her lip as a tear slips down her cheek. "I just wish it would've turned out differently."

He brushes the tear away with his finger. Then suddenly he finds himself smiling as another old memory surfaces. "Like if you had a time machine?" He grins broadly as she bursts out laughing that he'd remembered her old favorite game.

"If I had a time machine…" She strokes his cheek. "I would go back three years and kidnap you and Abel right after he got out of NICU. Make you run away with me."

"If I had a time machine…" He feeds her a long, slow kiss. "I'd go back fourteen years and leave Charming with you. And never look back."

* * *

><p><em>He waits until Old Man Knowles drives off in his Cutlass before walking up to her front door. He'd hidden his bicycle in the bushes so neither Piney or Mary can see it and rat him out to his parents - who'd fucking ground him for life if they knew he'd snuck out this late at night. Although, he thinks eight o'clock is hardly late, especially in the summer when there's no stupid homework or school in the morning. But his dad's pretty militant about not wanting his kids out at night without him or Gemma or someone from SAMCRO with them. So normally, he wouldn't be risking a grounded-for-life punishment on something that didn't involve explosives or Harleys, but this is important.<em>

"_Jax, what are you doing here? Are you okay? Is Tommy okay?"_

"_Everyone's fine. Can I come in?" He looks around nervously, not wanting to get spotted by anyone who could recognize him and tell his parents._

_She lets him in but then he's instantly stopped in his tracks by two things: her face - which looks like she'd been in a boxing match - and the heavenly smell of spaghetti sauce._

"_Tommy said you fell down and hurt your head." He steps closer to check out her black eye and the purple bruise on her cheek. "Are you okay? I brought you some band-aids in case you run out." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stash of Batman band-aids that he'd raided from the bathroom medicine cabinet. Although on second thought, he realizes that Tara's a girl and may not want to be wearing Batman on her face._

"_Thanks." She smiles and accepts his pile. "I love Batman." Pleased with himself, Jax grins back. Yep, Tara Knowles is the coolest girl ever._

"_Actually, I…uh…came by to thank you for the watermelon thing." He shifts nervously, trying to remember the words he'd practiced on the way over here. "Mom and Dad would've grounded me for life."_

"_You're welcome." She shoots him a puzzled look, probably wondering why he just doesn't come over during the day with Tommy. But he can't thank her the way he wants to with Tommy and Opie around. Tommy might let it slip to their parents and Opie would laugh his fucking ass off._

"_I…uh…got you this…uh…thing, as a thank you." He pulls a small paper bag out of his other pocket and hands it to her. "Dad took us to the Wahewa Reservation yesterday, and I saw this. Thought you might like it."_

_Her uninjured eye widens. "You didn't have to get me anything, Jax. That's what friends are for." He must've looked crushed that she didn't want his gift because then she beams at him and quickly opens the bag. "How exciting! It's like Christmas or my birthday." Actually better than that, he scowls to himself. Tommy told him that Tara didn't get anything for Christmas because Santa forgot where she lived. Her old man really sucks._

"_Oh, Jax, it's beautiful!" She pulls out a woven friendship bracelet with TARA sewn into the pattern._

"_You're always saying that all the personalized stuff says Sara instead of Tara, so I asked Charlie's sister to make this one with a T. And it's green, like your eyes." Jax frowns; when he'd practiced that line, he didn't sound like a dork. But coming out of his mouth now, he sounded like the biggest fucking dork to ever walk the planet._

"_You're the best, Teller." She pulls him into a hug, which he decides is definitely not terrible. "This is the best present I've ever gotten." He's really glad that his gift makes her happy, but it's kind of sad to hear that a $5 friendship bracelet is the best present she's ever had. Her old man really, really sucks. _

"_Have you had dinner?" She must've noticed him looking longingly over at her kitchen, inhaling the smell of the spaghetti sauce. Actually, he'd eaten dinner an hour ago, but he thinks - and his mom would kill him if she knew - that Tara's cooking is the best. And he knows her spaghetti's even better than Mario's, Charming's sole Italian restaurant._

"_Come on." She grabs his hand and leads him into the kitchen. "I made brownies for dessert."_

_He wolfs down two plates of spaghetti as she admires the bracelet tied around her wrist. "Jax, have you ever heard of Karma?" Shaking his head, he reaches for a brownie. Even though TM services all kinds of cars, he's really all about the motorcycles._

"_I was just reading about it in a book. It's the belief that people's actions cause either good things or bad things to happen to them." (Shit, he was fucking way off base thinking it was about cars). "I wasn't sure I believed it because…well, take the watermelon thing. I thought I was doing the right thing for Mrs. Conroy, but then afterwards my dad…I mean I slipped on the floor making dinner for my dad. But now, you gave me this really pretty bracelet. So I guess maybe it's true. Thanks, Jax." _

_She smiles at him again, causing the brownie (which was really, really good) to stick in his throat so he washes it down with the glass of milk she'd given him. Maybe this Karma thing is real - he spends an afternoon wallowing in watermelon guts and doesn't get grounded (for blowing up said watermelons), he buys Tara a friendship bracelet and gets an awesome spaghetti dinner and brownies. Sounds like a pretty good deal._

"Sure you don't want to come back with me? We can see the boys together; have some family time." He walks her to her SUV, carrying her bags. More than anything he wants to stay in that motel room with her, but after a blissful afternoon spent in her arms, there's now the grim reality that he's only got a couple hours of freedom before he has to surrender himself to Patterson. And he's still got to break the news to his Brothers and Gemma before he can spend the rest of the time with his boys.

She unlocks her car doors so that he can load her bags, then wraps her arms around his waist. "There's something I need to take care of before I meet Eli and go back to the house and wait for you. I can pick them up later." Smiling softly, she strokes his goatee. "Besides, you need time alone with your sons. They missed you." What she doesn't say - what he knows all too well - is that his sons gravitate to their mother; when Tara's around, it's like no one else exists. He can't blame them for feeling that way; like father, like sons.

Cupping her cheeks, he presses a slow kiss to her lips. "Look, I know we've agreed to keep the boys away from SAMCRO, but I'm still going to ask Bobby and Chibs to look out for you, make sure you're okay. I need that piece of mind, Babe."

Jax expects her to protest, to argue that she knows how to take care of herself and their kids. Instead, to his dismay, her eyes fill with tears; he's made her cry too many fucking times for this lifetime. "Hey, what's this…Come on, Babe. Don't cry…"

"Who'll take care of you?" Those tears spill down her cheeks, no doubt remembering what happened to him the last time he went inside. And this time, he'll be going in alone. "Baby, it's not too late. Tell the DA that you changed your mind, that you lied to protect me…"

He shakes his head, wiping away her tears with his fingers. "Tara…"

"I can go through with my trial, and if...if it doesn't end well, you promise me that you'll get the boys out of here, away from your mother. I know now I can trust you to get them out. Please Jax. Please…"

Pulling her against him, he strokes her soft hair as she sobs against his chest. Christ, he loves her, loves her beyond anything - his fiercely protective Tara. He flashes back to that feisty eleven-year-old girl who'd blatantly lied to save his and Opie's asses, who'd spent hours under the hot summer sun crawling around on her hands and knees picking up sticky, exploded watermelon parts. All because she loved him and Opie and didn't want to see them get into trouble - even though it wound up costing her in the end. _"Are you willing to let your family pay the price for your mistakes?"_ Patterson's voice echoes in his head, underscoring the crushing guilt he's felt every time she'd suffered for his stupid decisions. Well no more.

He kisses the top of her head before pulling back slightly so he could gaze into her beautiful face. "Listen to me, Babe. I'll be fine. Just as long as I know you and the boys are safe." He shakes his head as she starts to protest, placing a finger on her lips. "When we were kids, you taught me about Karma - about how the good and bad shit that people do can blow back on them. And then when you came back to town, you tried to teach me that all actions have consequences. Well it's taken a long fucking time, but it's finally registered. I've done a lot of really bad shit, Tara. And I've hurt you…" He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and caresses her soft cheek. "I'm sorry for that most of all. I've made you cry too much, Babe. From now on, I want you to smile. Smile and think of me and how much I love you; that I'll always love you.

But now's also finally the time for me to pay for all that bad shit I've done. But hopefully…" He stares into those amazing green eyes, feeling his love for her surge through every cell in his body. "Hopefully, when I've paid enough, maybe some of that good Karma kicks in and it'll be you, me and the boys riding off into the sunset."

"Oh, Jax…" She swipes at her eyes as more tears threaten to spill, then wraps her arms around his neck to pull him into a long, bone-melting kiss. When he was fifteen and kissed her like this for the first time, the sweet intensity of her mouth fused to his had sent all of his senses spiraling out of control, nearly knocking him on his ass. Eighteen years later, her kiss could still do that to him. And more; so much fucking more.

He's not sure how long they stand there making out in the motel parking lot, absorbing each other for the last time for a long while. But eventually, the need for air breaks them apart. "I'll look forward to that sunset, Baby." Tweaking his goatee, she smiles sadly. "It's getting late. You need to see the boys."

"Yeah, I do." He knows she's right however, holding her close and feeling her heart pound against his, leaving her is the last thing he wants to do.

Tightening her arms around his neck, she leans her forehead against his. "I love you, Jax. So much…"

Unable to help himself, he drops a soft kiss on her lips, then another, and another. "I love you more." Lifting her left hand to his lips, he presses a kiss to her wedding ring.

A few long moments later, she reluctantly steps out of his arms and opens the driver side door. But before she slides in, she turns to him; stroking his face, she gives him one last kiss. "I love you most." Then beaming him that dazzling smile he's loved since grade school, she gets in her SUV and drives away, blowing him a kiss before she turns out of the motel parking lot and takes off towards her destination.

Jamming his hands in his pockets, Jax watches her car until it disappears around the corner. Walking over to his bike, he straps on his helmet, feeling an odd sense of peace filling him as he takes off for the ice cream shop. Yeah, he's about to go inside for a longer stretch of time than he's ever done - with no protection in place - and yeah, he's on his way to say good-bye to his sons, his mother and his Brothers. But none of that fucking matters right now.

Knowing that she loves him, that she'll always love him with the same wholehearted intensity as he loves her; knowing that someday soon they'll be together for good, like they're meant to be…that's all that matters.


	14. Things to Hold on to When You're Broken

**First, HUGE apologies for taking so long to update. Got hit with a ton of work at the end of September and just now coming up for air.**

**Second, THANK YOU again to all of you who've followed, favorited and/or reviewed this story. It's what's kept me going even after my job's zapped my energy and most of my brain cells. You're all so fantastic; I could not do this without you.**

**And third, this is it. Last chapter. I hope you've enjoyed the journey so far. **

**I know S7 is well underway, but I've stayed away. However, I don't live under a rock, and although none of my friends watch the show anymore, I've still heard about some of things that've happened - mostly casting decisions that have me SMH in disgust (promoting Drea Matteo or whatever the hell her name is to a series regular? Ugh). **

**Part 2 has been outlined for a while; I just need to write it. So any resemblance to what's been happening on the show would be pure coincidence. I don't plan on it to be as long as Part 1, but then to be honest, I didn't expect Part 1 to be as long as it's been. Sometimes I just have to let the story play out and hope that you like it.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Things to Hold on to When You're Broken<strong>

"_Say that again?" Patterson asks her assistant, disbelief spreading across her face as he repeats the name of the unexpected visitor waiting in her private conference room. "That's what I thought you said," she sighs loudly. "Get him some coffee and let him know I'll be there in a few minutes."_

_Walking to her office, she takes a quick minute to sit at her desk and rub her temples. She really doesn't need this, not after an already difficult morning; trying to question Jackson Teller - who'd emerged from his near weeklong coma yesterday - only to be blocked by a hovering, bad-tempered mother and slick, ever-present attorney. Not to mention a motley trio of hostile SAMCRO bikers, who looked as if they hadn't showered or changed clothes since their fearless leader went down._

_The only progress she'd managed to make was a promise from Rosen, that he'd call her to set up a meeting once Teller's released from the hospital. Because he's sure Jax would be very interested in doing everything he can to help find his wife's killer. And that's exactly what concerns her the most: Teller on a bloody rampage - ripping apart San Joaquin County as he plays judge, jury and executioner. Both men had better think again if they think she'll share even an iota of evidence with them; not when Teller's still a suspect in the case - even if he didn't kill Tara, who's to say he didn't gun down Eli?_

_And to top it off, Rosen gifted her with a fat manila envelope full of legal motions intended to ensure that, once he's discharged by his doctor, Jackson Teller would head home instead of back to County. Flipping through the papers, she shakes her head in frustration; the man was thorough - threatening a lawsuit over the sheriff's department's use of a TASER on a man they knew to have congenital heart problems (actually, she knew about Teller's heart condition, not the deputy, but it's still a nuisance lawsuit that would tie her up in court instead of working this case, the school shooting and others). Even more problematic was a motion to prevent them from using the gun found at the crime scene to charge Teller with a parole violation. In that brief, Rosen contends that Teller had found it at the scene, which would explain any of his prints they'd no doubt find on the gun. Shit._

_Putting Jackson Teller out of her mind - for now - she gathers all of her files on the school shooting and exits her office to walk across the hall, where her special guest awaits: Nicholas C. Reese, Chief Deputy Attorney General for the State of California._

_Taking a deep breath, she walks into the room to find the man sitting at the table reading a file. Glancing up as she enters the room, he rises to his feet and smiles, looking like a tall blond male model right out of an issue of Gentleman's Quarterly. They've never met; she's just seen him at work - dissecting opponents in court or dazzling reporters during press conferences. Although, in close proximity, he seems much taller and younger - and there's something vaguely familiar about him that she can't quite place. But, appearances aside, she's quite aware that in front of her stands one of the sharpest legal minds in the state - if not the country._

"_Nick Reese." He shakes her hand, introducing himself even though there isn't a criminal attorney in California who wouldn't recognize the Attorney General and the Governor's golden boy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Patterson; my boss and I have heard many great things about your work here."_

_If so, then why has he been dispatched here to hijack one of her cases? But ever-the-politician, Patterson just smiles back. "That's kind of you to say. What can I do for you? It's not often we attract the attention of the AG's office." Except for the school shooting, which had the Attorney General herself calling to inquire about status - and no doubt explains the appearance of the her top deputy._

"_Lucky you." He gestures for her to sit, as if they were in his conference room instead of hers. But as she sits, he remains standing, choosing to lean against the table instead. "Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I just got this assignment and wanted to get to work right away. However, please be assured, it's still your case; I'm just here to advise and assist in any way that I can."_

_Highly doubtful that such a legal hotshot would choose to stand on the sidelines, but Patterson's innate caution has her nodding politely. "Okay, let's get started then." She slides the thick file folders towards him. "This is everything we have on the school shooting. I can have my assistant make you copies, but you can read these for now."_

_He doesn't even look at the folders, his intent gaze fixed on her. "I'm sorry, there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not here about the school shooting, Mrs. Patterson." The smile vanishes from his face as his blue eyes harden. "I'm here about the murders of Sheriff Eli Roosevelt and Dr. Tara Knowles."_

* * *

><p>"<em>She's not dead, you know."<em>

_Startled, Jax tears his eyes away from Tara - who'd fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of their Godzilla movie marathon - to scowl at his best friend. "Did you say something? Or was that your fucking stomach growling again?"_

_Gobbling popcorn from a huge bowl on his lap, Opie glances at the sleeping Tara, then shoots Jax a knowing smirk. "Just noticed that you were staring at her chest awfully hard - kind of like you weren't sure if she was still breathing. So I thought I'd help you out, in case you were worried…or something." Grinning broadly, Opie tosses a few more kernels in his mouth. _

"_No idea what you're talking about, Bro." It takes all of Jax's self-control to re-focus his attention on the TV and not flip his friend the bird; doing so would only confirm that he'd been caught (again) staring at Tara's world class rack, so nicely showcased by her tank top. It's like those puppies sprouted overnight; one minute she's a flat-chested tomboy in a t-shirt and jeans, the next she's got him drooling and hard as fuck over the sight of her in a bikini. _

_It's been a couple of weeks since their fateful trip to the lake where Tara Knowles - all grown up in all the right places - had shocked the living shit out of him; a couple of weeks of nightly wet dreams and constant fly-by's past her house and locker at school, just for a glimpse of her. Initially she'd been pissed at him and Opie for chasing off her would-be late summer hook-up with that nineteen-year-old ass clown (over Jax's fucking dead body) then got completely immersed with starting high school. Only Old Man Knowles' Labor Day weekend trip to Reno with his drinking buddies opened up a window to spend time with her, as somehow Opie managed to convince her to accept his apology and make him his favorite dish for dinner (cooking wasn't exactly one of Mary Winston's talents). When Jax found out about it, he bailed on a date with some forgettable piece of ass and invited himself along. He tells himself that he's crashing the dinner because Tara's pot roast beats the hell out of whatever he'd get on his date (sex included), and not because he doesn't want Opie spending time with Tara without him._

_After a whole five minutes of watching Godzilla beat down Mothra, Jax's gaze once again drifts over to the couch to drink in the sight of those luscious, mouth-watering breasts plumped up against her slender arms. He feels himself growing even harder, losing the battle he's been fighting against his dick since walking through her door. Groaning inwardly, he forces himself to look away, but unable to take his eyes off of her, he winds up focusing on her face - inspiring his erection to press insistently against his fly. Holy shit. For as long as he can remember he's always thought Tara was pretty, but when the fuck did she get so goddamn beautiful? When did her sassy mouth get so pink and lush? He's lost count of the number of times he's dreamed about devouring that thoroughly kissable mouth while his hands and fingers cup and fondle her bare breasts; now he thinks about how fucking amazing it would feel to have those plump lips kiss her way down his body to suck on his rock hard…_

"_I'm going outside for a smoke." Jesus H. Christ. Jax nearly falls out of his chair at the sound of Opie's loud voice booming above him, effectively dousing ice cold water on yet another smoldering hot fantasy. Fuck, busted again. Apparently he'd been staring at Tara so intently he hadn't even noticed Opie getting out of his chair and walking over to stand right in front of him. But this time, there's no teasing grin on his friend's face. "You look like you could use one, too."_

_Struggling to get his raging body under control, Jax grips the chair arms then shoots Opie a puzzled glance. Tara's never made them go outside to smoke before. And it's fucking raining outside._

_Opie rolls his eyes. "That's code for 'I got something to say to you' - in case your brain's still twitching south of the border." Striding over to the patio door, he pulls it open and walks out into the backyard._

_Sighing heavily, Jax shoots one more longing glance at Tara - wanting more than anything to curl up next to her. Instead he gets up and joins Opie outside, shutting the patio door behind him. Fortunately, the downpour from earlier in the night has dwindled to a light mist._

"_What's up?" He accepts the lit cigarette that Opie hands him. There's a look on his friend's face that he's never seen before. Like he's not quite comfortable with what he wants to say, but determined as hell to say it._

"_Look, I know I've been giving you shit about your crush on Tara…" He shakes his head, dismissing Jax's weak-ass denials. "And if I knew you were serious about her, I'd be all for it. She'd be good for you; always has been…" Opie takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales slowly, as if carefully considering his next few words. "But you know that Tara isn't like your usual fuck buddies. She deserves someone who'll be all in with her."_

_Frowning, Jax glances at the patio door before turning to glare at his best friend in the world. "Is this your way of warning me off because you think you're the one…" He feels his temper spiking to volcanic levels at the idea of Opie with Tara._

"_Hell, no!" Sheer horror spreads across Opie's face. "That'd be like hooking up with my sister. Which is kind of the point I need to make." He shifts uncomfortably and takes another long drag. "Jax, you're my best friend; you know I'll back your play no matter what. If you're serious about Tara, then great, go for it. But if you're just looking to get laid, then you got to leave her alone." Now it's Opie's turn to glance at the patio door. "She's been through enough and doesn't need anyone else to hurt her… 'Cause if you do…" Opie closes his eyes before training them on Jax. "I'll have to kick your ass."_

_Caught off guard, Jax nearly chokes on his cigarette. Having pretty much grown up as brothers, he and Opie have jokingly threatened to beat the shit out of each other on a regular basis; however, neither of them have so much as thrown an actual punch. Although it's jarring to hear the grim intent in Opie's warning, Jax can understand his reasoning. Shit, he's done a hell of a lot more than threaten assholes who'd hurt her._

_No, his problem isn't with Opie's ultimatum as much as his own uncertainty - an unusual and frustrating state for Jax, who's always known what he wanted and pursued it with reckless abandon. And right now, he's never wanted anything or anyone more than he wants Tara (which he knows makes him a total perv since she's still fourteen and won't be fifteen for a few more months). But is he ready to be in any kind of a relationship that someone like Tara would deserve? Shit, he's only fifteen, only just started loving the sex-and-party-fueled MC life. He's seen guys like Otto get so stupidly pussy-whipped by their Old Ladies and doesn't want any part of that; hell no, he'd rather be like his old man, partying and fucking mindlessly for years before marrying some young babe later in life. No room for some fourteen-year-old virgin in that mix. No matter how spectacularly fuckable she is._

"_What are you guys doing out here?" Both he and Opie turn towards the open patio door where Tara stands rubbing her eyes, looking sleepy and rumpled and sexy as hell. Fuck, he's got to get out of here before he loses his resolve and does something colossally stupid like kiss her senseless in front of Opie._

"_Just telling Ope that I got to go and meet my date." It's not exactly a lie; Jax knows he can probably call her (provided he can remember her name), and she'd be ready to meet him. Or he could always go over to the Club and hook up with another croweater. Anything to take care of his hard-on that's roared back to life just at the sight of Tara in her tank top and jeans._

"_Kind of late, isn't it?" She frowns and looks at her watch. "Is anything going to be open?"_

"_Don't need anything to be open," Jax smirks. "Just private." Beside him, he can feel Opie rolling his eyes; his best friend may know that his swagger's total bullshit, just as long as Tara never suspects._

"_You're all class, Teller." She shakes her head. "Opie, are you staying? If so, do you want any more pot roast before I put it in a container for you to take home?"_

"_Hell, yeah, I'll be right in. Besides, the next Godzilla movie has Mothra and Rodan. Can't miss that." Jax glares at him; he'd assumed that once he left, Opie would leave as well. Opie may insist that Tara's like a sister to him, but Jax can't believe any red-blooded male wouldn't be completely turned on by her. He fucking hates the idea of leaving them alone together._

"_Ok. Jax, do you want me to cut you any pieces to take home? Or to feed your date?" She wrinkles her nose, clearly not impressed by his dating skills._

"_No, you don't have to do that. I can always go over to Opie's later and steal some." He ignores Opie's snorts of disbelief and smiles at her, trying to control his swelling dick. "Thanks again for dinner. It was great as always."_

"_You're welcome." She beams at him, spiking his pulse like nothing else ever, then walks back into her house - drawing his eyes to that perfect ass until she disappears inside._

"_I'd never hurt Tara," he turns and tells Opie. "But I could hurt you." His friend shoots him a puzzled look, clearly not understanding Jax's implication. "Touch her, and I'll kick YOUR ass."_

_Opie shakes his head; his expression morphing from confusion to amused sympathy, as if doubting Jax's sanity for the first time. "You're out of your mind, Bro." _

_As he walks away from Tara's house, Jax tells himself that he's not crazy. Even though threatening his best friend over a chick is pretty fucked up - especially since that chick was Tara, the closest either of them had to a sister. And no, it wasn't batshit crazy that when he fucked some brown-haired croweater an hour later, all he could see was a pair of mossy green eyes; that all he could think about was how good it would feel to run his hands all over Tara's baby soft skin as he thrust deep inside of her. And it wasn't fucking insane that when he came - violently, endlessly - it was Tara's name that he screamed in the croweater's ear. And then even later that night, he tells himself that he's not out of his goddamn mind (or a creepy stalker) when he goes to her house and peaks into her bedroom window to make sure she slept alone._

_No, when it comes to Tara Knowles, he's perfectly sane._

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you doing?" Walking into Jax's hospital room, Rosen shakes his head in disbelief, glancing ruefully at the empty hospital bed while Jax buttons his shirt.<p>

"You said the DA's not pressing any charges." Jax sits down on the bed to lace his white tennis shoes. "So I'm getting the fuck out of here." After ordering his mom and his Brothers home to get some rest, he'd called Rosen for a meet - and then Rat for a change of clothes. No one could tell him anything about what happened to Tara; there's no fucking way he's spending one more minute in this place flat on his goddamn back while her murderer's still breathing.

_Tara's murderer._ The words incite every cell in his body to vibrate with a venomous rage beyond anything he's ever felt before. And Jax knows, better than most, what it's like to be consumed with fury - fury that's led to lethal retribution - but never like this…He's ready to set the whole goddamn world on fire to find the walking corpse who destroyed his world.

"In case you've forgotten, your doctor ordered bed rest for the next few days. It's not like you were in here for some bad strain of the flu, Jax. You had a damn heart attack."

"I'm fine." Jax stands and glares at his lawyer. "Didn't ask you here so you can nag like a bitch; I already got a mother and a bunch of goddamn nurses for that. I need you to tell me everything you know about Tara. And no holding back because you don't think I can fucking handle it."

Sighing heavily, Rosen regards him grimly. "Patterson and the Sherriff's Office have clammed up; won't tell me shit because, although they haven't charged you, the DA's office considers you to be a Person of Interest in both Tara and Roosevelt's murders. Hell, the coroner hasn't even released either of the bodies yet."

Despite his best efforts, Jax can't stop himself from flinching at Rosen's last words; trickles of the intense pain he's been trying to bury seep through yet another crack in his resolve. Jax clenches his fists as he tries desperately to get himself under control. Fucking, fucking shit…he's got to focus…focus on vengeance, focus on finding her killer, focus on how he'll crush bones and tear bloody flesh apart with his bare hands. He can't afford to think about Tara - about how beautiful and hopeful she'd looked their last afternoon together, how cold and still she'd been as he'd cradled her lifeless body in his arms.

His face must've betrayed some of his anguish as Rosen's expression softens somewhat. "Look Jax, I've already told Patterson that we'll sit down with her; I'm sure she'll want to hear your side of it. I'll call her assistant and make an appointment for tomorrow…"

"Now." Jax can't stand one more second of sitting on his fucking hands. Jesus Christ, his wife was dead and no one could or would tell him how it happened. All he knows is that she'd died bloody; violently murdered in their home where she should've been safe. Once again, grief and rage overwhelm him and it's everything he can do to keep from beating Rosen to shit just for being alive when Tara wasn't.

Rosen shakes his head, clearly unaware of Jax's deadly impulses. "Already tried to call her this morning; she's in conference all day." He runs his fingers through his hair and glances once again at the empty hospital bed. "You should stay here - just one more night, let the doctors clear you. Then tomorrow…"

"No." Jax pushes past him and stalks into the hallway. He doesn't need a fucking appointment to see Patterson; he'd force her to make time for him. In his mind, it was the DA's goddamn obsession to pin the school shooting on SAMCRO that set this whole fucking thing in motion; Patterson had manipulated Tara's fear of going to prison and leaving their sons to turn her against him. Had she just left Tara alone…a red mist coats his vision as he's hit with the heartrending image of Tara sprawled on the kitchen floor. Jax grits his teeth; maybe after he's finished eviscerating Tara's killer, he'd let Patterson feel Tara's pain. And his.

"Jax, wait…Jax!" Rosen grabs his arm. "I know what Tara meant to you; how much you loved her. Hell, I was there to watch you fall on your ass for her. Remember? You threatened to pluck my eyeballs out with a screwdriver. But you can't think to go storming into the District Attorney's office. She'll have you arrested, which is what she wants - you in jail. Then who'll take care of your kids? They can't stay with your mother forever."

He glares down at Rosen's restraining hand until the man drops it and steps back in self-preservation. Sucking in a deep breath, Jax realizes that Rosen's right; he can't give Patterson a reason to lock him up. But he can't fucking sit around and wait for her and the sheriff's department to feed him information either - not only does he doubt their ability to find their asses with both hands, he knows they won't ever tell him everything he'd want to know. As for his boys…Shit, he can't think about even facing them right now, much less taking care of them. He's not sure how in everlasting hell he'll ever be able to look them in the eyes, knowing that it was likely all his goddamn fault that their mother's gone.

"Ok," he concedes. "But I want you to take me to see Cane. Patterson may not be saying shit, but maybe I can get something out of him."

Rosen looks like he wants to protest but then nods reluctantly, following Jax towards the hospital lobby. But as they approach the check-out desk, they're waylaid by an irate Margaret Murphy.

"I wasn't aware that Dr. Gallagher discharged you." She glares at him, no doubt fully aware that Jax received no such release. "I suggest that you get back to your room before you suffer some kind of relapse." Jax knows that Tara's former boss and good friend harbors no love whatsoever for him, that she'd been a staunch advocate of Tara leaving him to take that job in Oregon; however, he can't seem to return her anger or resentment. Instead, he wishes with everything inside of him that she'd been successful.

"I'm fine," he assures her, knowing that she probably wishes he'd drop dead. "I just can't be here anymore; I hope you understand."

She considers his words for a long moment then relaxes her rigid stance. "Your mother signed all the insurance papers. I'm sure the doctor will have a prescription for your medication, but you can pick that up tomorrow." Jax nods, relieved that she's not fighting him; he's got no stomach for getting into it with someone Tara had trusted so much. "I let Gemma know that Abel and Thomas will always have a place in the hospital daycare," she tells him. "The stability might be good for them right now."

"I appreciate that," Jax replies sincerely, grateful that she's watching out for his sons. Gemma told him that the boys had spent their days here while she sat with him the past few days. To his shame, he hadn't even asked. When he woke up and realized that he hadn't been in the throes of another nightmare - that Tara was really and truly gone - he hadn't given a shit about anything, screaming at everyone to leave him the fuck alone while he wallowed in the blinding pain of his loss. However, it didn't take long for that intense grief to yield way to an all-encompassing thirst for blood; it's all that's fucking holding him together now.

Margaret nods stiffly then leaves them, as if she can't stand to spend another second in Jax's company. Not that he can blame her. Rosen raises his eyebrows at her restrained hostility, but Jax ignores him as he strides towards the exit. At the door stood Rat, who'd brought his change of clothes and then waited dutifully to take him home or to Scoops or wherever the hell Jax wants to go.

"You can leave," Jax dismisses him. "I've got a lift. Tell Bobby I'll call him later." Rat nods and hands Jax his leather cut that he'd refused to take earlier. But to Rat and Rosen's open-mouthed shock, instead of accepting and slipping on the symbol of the Club to which he'd devoted his life, Jax lets it fall to the ground as he walks away.

* * *

><p>"<em>Wow. Now that is a choice piece of ass." Rolling his eyes, Jax ignores the guy leaning against the workbench and focuses his attention on the Dyna that Clay assigned him to repair. Somehow he also wound up with the unenviable chore of having to entertain Ben Rosen's kid, who's visiting from law school this weekend, while his old man meets with Clay. Since Ben had been tight with JT, Jax's known both the Rosens for most of his life; Ben's all right, but he can't fucking stand Junior - the pompous asshole thinks he's so much better than Jax and the guys in SAMCRO, but he's never had a problem taking their money or ogling the croweaters in their Clubhouse.<em>

"_Definitely much classier than the skanks that usually hang around this place. I may just have to introduce myself to this one." Jax stiffens then looks up at the clock; Tara had told him that she'd come by around noon to bring him lunch then hang out for the rest of the afternoon until he finished his work. Fuck, he'd been so intent at ignoring Rosen that he'd lost track of time. Jax feels his blood pressure spike as he follows the douchebag's appreciative gaze to Tara, standing a few feet away talking to Piney, offering him a sandwich from her bag._

_Holy shit, after nearly four months together - four smoking hot months of living in each other's pockets - you'd think he wouldn't be as turned on at the sight of Tara in cutoffs and a camisole. Not fucking likely. Hungrily drinking in the sight of those endlessly long legs, that perfectly shaped ass, the lusciously plump breasts - he can't help flashing back to just this morning when she'd wrapped her long legs around his waist while he sucked on her thick, rosy nipples as they fucked in the shower, against the bathroom door, her bedroom door..._

_Then suddenly remembering that he's not alone in his lust-fueled admiration for her, Jax turns to Rosen, grabbing the asshole's perfectly pressed shirt with his grease-stained hands. "First of all, she's not a 'piece of ass.' Second, if you don't get your fucking eyes off my girlfriend, I'm going to gouge them out with that screwdriver over there," he snarls in Rosen's ear then shoves him aside._

_Startled, Rosen gapes at him before shaking his head in disbelief. "Teller, you've lost your goddamn mind." Then he straightens and pastes a smarmy smile on his face as Tara approaches them. But before Rosen can introduce himself, Jax intercepts Tara, wrapping his arms around her and devouring her mouth._

"_Let's get the hell out of here." He fills his hands with that delicious ass, squeezing possessively as he presses her against his hard cock._

"_Don't you have to work?" She shivers and moans softly as he nips at the ultra-sensitive skin on her neck._

"_Fuck that." Smirking at Rosen, he drapes his arm around Tara's shoulders as he leads her to his Harley; starting the bike while she straps on the helmet then slides on behind him. And then before any of his Brothers can say anything to stop them, he guns the engine and takes off - not stopping until an hour later when they arrive at what he likes to call "their" place, the secluded park at the base of Mt. Walker where they'd spent his sixteenth birthday a few weeks ago. _

_He knows he'll catch holy hell for taking off without getting clearance from Clay, but it's hard to give a shit as he basks in the intoxicating sensation of her naked body rubbing against his or the mind-blowing pleasure of her tight, wet inner muscles milking his cock until an explosive orgasm engulfs them both._

"_Are we crazy?" Snuggled against him, she runs a soft hand across his damp chest and tickles the shell of his ear with her tongue, causing him to shiver and his recovering dick to twitch with interest._

_Rolling her on to her back, Jax buries his face between her breasts, swirling his tongue over her stiff nipples. "You mean because we're here on an unplanned camping trip with nothing but a blanket, a bottle of Jack and two sandwiches?" He presses a slow kiss to her lips. "I love you, Tara." He caresses her cheek, enthralled by the feel of her silky-soft skin and the glow of those gorgeous green eyes. "We're supposed to be together, Babe. There's nothing crazy about that."_

* * *

><p>"You're wasting your time here, Teller." Cane shakes his head as he watches Jax approach with Rosen in tow. "I've got nothing to say to you."<p>

"I didn't kill Eli." Jax wastes no time with preliminaries, ignoring the irritated scowl on Rosen's face. On the way here, the lawyer had harped on Jax not to offer up anything - not claims of innocence nor offers of information - because anything he says to law enforcement could come back to bite him on the ass. But Jax's got no fucking interest in tap-dancing to find out what he wants to know. "And I sure as hell didn't kill my wife."

Cane's enmity disappears, replaced by sad regret. "I'm really sorry about Dr. Knowles; she was a real nice lady. I was at the scene and…hell, she didn't deserve what happened to her."

Jax feels his throat tighten. "Thanks," he whispers hoarsely. He doesn't remember seeing Cane that night, or anyone else for that matter - just Tara...and her blood splattered everywhere. Trying to calm his raging emotions, Jax clings to his goal of finding out what Cane might know. Nothing else; he can't afford to think of anything else. "I need to know how she died, Cane; who could have done this to her. Tara was my wife; it's my right to know what happened."

Cane motions for them to follow him through a door leading to an empty conference room. "Look, Patterson's holding this one close to the vest, instructed the brass not to release the autopsy findings or crime scene details to us in the rank and file until the new Sheriff starts next week."

"Isn't she afraid that the evidence trail might grow cold with this delay?" Rosen asks, clearly mystified by the DA's inaction.

Cane shrugs his shoulders. "You got me, man. We're chomping at the bit on this, too. No disrespect to your wife, Jax. But Eli was one of us and a good, good man. Everyone here wants his killer's head mounted on our wall. But ever since this case got kicked up the food chain, everything's been on a lock-down, need-to-know basis."

"What does that mean?" Jax wrinkles his brow in confusion. "Patterson's handing the investigation off to someone else?" He can't imagine that she'd let a high profile case in her jurisdiction get transferred elsewhere. Not without a fight.

"You did not hear this from me." Cane glares at them. "I'll deny it." Convinced by their assurances to keep his news to themselves, Cane continues unloading what he knows. "According to my sources, Patterson got a visit by someone real big in the AG's office yesterday. I hear she's still the lead, but State's going to be dogging her heels at every step. Which means nobody gets to know shit unless she or the AG's office says so."

Jax slams his fist against the table in enraged frustration. Every minute of delay is another goddamn minute that Tara's killer spends alive and free. But he swears to himself, and to Tara, that he'll make her murderer pay for every minute of that freedom; pay in blood and pain.

"Do you who the AG assigned to the case?" Unruffled, Rosen stays on point, trying to identify their potential nemesis. "Sometimes she'll send out her top deputies to help out DA's on high-profile cases that could have implications on present and future state laws."

"You mean like laws preventing innocent people from getting murdered in their homes?" Jax growls; he's fucking sick of these shit-eating assholes making political hay at his family's expense.

"Jax…" Rosen frowns at him. "Roosevelt was decorated, career law enforcement - hugely successful at curtailing gangs in the Bay Area. If there's any chance this was a hit on him in retaliation for that work, the AG will be all over this; especially if it could lead to putting capital punishment back into law for good - at least for cop killing. If that happens, then it's going to be damn hard - if not impossible - to get any information about Tara's death from them; particularly for someone who's currently President of a well-known MC."

Feeling his temper ratchet up another hundred degrees, Jax jams his hands in his pocket to keep from completely losing his shit and crushing everything in this room to dust, including Cane and Rosen.

Apparently his violent emotions must've been all over his face as Cane regards him warily before responding to Rosen. "Sorry, I don't know who it is. Just someone with enough juice to get Patterson snapping to attention. I hear she's handed off everything else to her ADA's in order to focus on this."

Rosen nods thoughtfully. "Since she's been on the job forever, she's got a few stripes of her own. There's only a handful of power players in the AG's office who can give her game. I'll look into it." He extends a hand to Cane. "Really appreciate all your help, Deputy. Rest assured, we'll keep everything we learned here confidential. Ultimately, we all want the same thing: justice for Sheriff Roosevelt and Tara."

Placated by Rosen's words, Cane shakes the lawyer's hand and then Jax's before silently leading them out of the room and out of the building.

"Satisfied?" Rosen sighs as he drives them out of the parking lot.

Jax stares out the window for a few long moments before answering. "I'm not President anymore," he tells SAMCRO's long-time lawyer. "I passed the gavel to Bobby when I thought I was going inside. As far as I'm concerned, he's President." He feels Rosen staring at him in surprise, just like when he let his cut fall to the ground back at St. Thomas. "And no, I'm not fucking satisfied. Not until I find out who killed Tara. Not until that goddamn animal knows what it's like to lose everything. Not until he knows how it feels to beg for death."

* * *

><p>"<em>Shit, are you sure about this?" Opie stares at the twenty-something redhead they planned to follow from the bar to her small house in Lodi - a house that she'd bought just last month after moving out of her apartment in Charming, which was just half a mile away from their Clubhouse. Apparently she'd been on her way to that home after another night of downing tequila shots when she'd slammed into the Cutlass carrying Phil and a heavily pregnant Tara. For as long as he lives, Jax will never forget the hellish fear that had consumed him when he learned that Tara was in the hospital after an accident with a drunk driver. <em>

"_She almost killed Tara and Thomas," Jax snaps at him. "Sorry, but picking up garbage on the freeway for three months isn't exactly the payback she deserves." Sure Tara turned out to be fine and delivered a perfectly healthy Thomas Teller a couple days later, but Phil told him that she'd been hurt and bleeding after he'd pulled her out of the totaled Cutlass. That was enough to make Jax want to wrap his hands around the redheaded bitch's neck and squeeze the worthless life out of her._

_It's been months since the accident, but they'd waited until Jax was out of Stockton since he wanted to mete out the retaliation personally. He'd pulled her name from the police report and car insurance claims then Juice did some hacking and found out that she had enormous insurance deductibles because of two drunk driving convictions. Phil and Rat pieced together her and her neighbors' routines and then, armed with that information, Opie wired her new house with some low level explosives that could simulate a kitchen grease fire after detonation. A kitchen grease fire that will cost her big._

_He and Opie follow her home, relieved that she doesn't hook up with one of the guys from the bar as that would've been a complication. Then watching as she pulls the car into the garage, Jax dials the Phil's cel. "No one else in the house," the Prospect tells him from his vantage point in her backyard. Showtime._

_Jax walks up to her door and rings the bell; he's about to ring again when she opens the door, still dressed in her fuck-me clothes from the bar. He flashes her his panty-dropping smile that Tara once told him could seduce nuns; sure enough the annoyed look on her face melts into pure seduction. _

_"You lost?" She licks her lips and stares at him in a way that makes his skin crawl._

"_No, darlin' - just delivering some long overdue payback." Flashing Opie a signal, he yanks her out the door and hurls her roughly to the ground as a quick blast rocks the inside of the house and engulfs the garage - taking out both her kitchen and car._

"_Holy shit!" she screams, but Jax covers her mouth with his hand._

"_Simple kitchen fire," he whispers harshly in her ear. "Happens all the time. And you'd better forget about seeing me here. 'Cause if you don't, I'll be forced to bring some friends with me next time. I know they'd love spending time with you, although something tells me you won't have as much fun…Are we clear?"_

_She nods as tears spill from her fear-filled eyes. Unaffected, Jax rises to his feet as hate surges hotly through his veins; Phil told him that Tara had cried non-stop that night, terrified over losing their baby even though she'd tried to soothe Jax's panic the next day on the phone. Looking down at the redhead's mascara- and blood-streaked face, he shoots her a look of pure disgust and spits into her eye before walking away._

_Sliding into Opie's truck, he smiles with satisfaction before noting the troubled look on his friend's face. "What's your problem? Hell, I barely touched her. Considering what she did…I'd say she got off easy."_

"_I don't know, man." Opie shakes his head. "You've always been a whole can of nuts when it comes to Tara…that cop back in high school, Salazar - at least I could say they got what they deserved. But this…Shit Jax, since when did we start going after women? And what if she rats you out to the cops? You could be back in Stockton for a long time."_

"_For the assholes who hurt my family, I'm all about equal opportunity when I make them bleed. And that bitch won't say anything," Jax assures him; he's threatened enough people to know paralyzing fear when he saw it. "Besides, she couldn't prove anything if she tried. You said yourself that the wiring could fool even the best arson investigator. And, right now, I'm with you, Chibs and Bobby at a motorcycle show in Eureka. Shit, who knows, maybe she'll move to the East Coast after this. The California streets will be a little safer."_

"_Maybe…" Opie lights a cigarette as they turn onto the freeway that'll lead them back to Charming. "But you're still fucking crazy."_

* * *

><p>"Are you sure?" Rosen regards him skeptically when Jax tells the lawyer to take him home; that despite everything, he fully intends to continue living there with his sons. "I know the guys had it cleaned up after the sheriff's department released it, but…maybe you'll be more comfortable at your mom's house or…"<p>

"No," Jax states firmly. "I want to be there; it's our home." He doesn't tell Rosen that he'd already gone through a painful internal debate as to whether he could bear to live in that house knowing that he'd never come home to her again, sleep in their bed knowing that he'd never hold her through the night again; fucking hell, whether he could ever sit at the table and eat meals with his sons in the kitchen where the woman they loved so much had breathed her last - the kitchen where his world, his life had ended. At first, he'd vowed to never set foot in that house again, vowed that he'd burn the fucking place to the ground. Hell, he'd gone so far as to accept his mother's offer to stay at her place until he figured out his shit.

But it was thinking about his childhood home that changed his mind. After losing Tommy and then his dad, he'd found comfort in the rooms he'd associated most with them: Tommy's bedroom filled with stuffed animals and toy cars, JT's study lined with endless rows of books and Harley manuals. He'd spent countless hours sprawled on Tommy's bed flipping through his late brother's brightly colored drawings then, years later, sitting in his dad's stuffed chair reading all of his books. He loved the home that Tara had created for their family; every inch of every room carried her loving touch. It'll be painful as hell to live there without her, but their home's still a connection to her and their life together; he's not ready to lose that yet.

As they approach his house, Jax's jaw drops in shock at the sight of flowers and candles and stuffed animals covering his driveway. Even though Rosen said the house has been released as a crime scene, the police tape still lines the property; so people would've had to duck under the yellow banner to leave their offerings. "What the hell is this?"

Rosen stops the car and flashes Jax a look of pained sympathy. "When Tara's death hit the news, she had a lot of patients and a lot of grateful parents who wanted to pay their respects. Since there wasn't an imminent plan for her funeral and nothing could be left at St. Thomas, some of them were able to find your address. Your mom wanted to get rid of it all because she thought it'd be hard for you to see. But Patterson said she'd throw Gemma in jail if she did; I'm sure the DA planned to be here when you saw it all, gauge your reaction."

Jax closes his eyes and swallows hard before nodding and sliding out of the car. "Thanks for the ride." He looks back at Rosen through the open car window. "Glad you're back on board, Rosie. Call me when you get that meet with Patterson."

Turning towards his house, he walks slowly to the edge of the driveway. Shit, there had to be at least a hundred flower bouquets, notes written in crayon, brightly colored pictures of flowers and angels…What fucking reaction did Patterson expect to see from him after viewing this? Guilt, most likely, 'cause he sure as shit feels that. Right after Abel got kidnapped, he'd tried to push Tara away - so afraid that the shit in his life would hurt her, hurt her career. But after confronted with actually losing her for good, he'd held on tight, convinced her to stay with him, marry him - promising her that he'd take her and the boys away from this life that scared her so much. But he'd reneged on that promise, as a result she lost her career, lost her life. How in fucking hell could he not feel guilt over that?

Surveying the tribute to his wife, his eyes catch on the photos: Tara, dressed in her scrubs and white doctor's coat, beaming proudly as she posed with tiny babies and blissfully happy parents. His beautiful, brilliant Tara. He sucks in a sharp breath and clenches his fists as burning hot rage slashes through him once again; rage at the nameless, faceless monster who'd ripped her away from him, from their sons, from all these little babies who owed their lives to her.

Stalking to his house, Jax lets himself inside and heads straight for the kitchen - determined to confront the demons in that room. Breathing heavily, he scans the pristine whiteness of the floor, of the counters - not a drop of red to be seen. He smells the sharp odor of bleach and industrial strength cleanser - not the delicious aroma of Tara's spaghetti that he's always loved or the homemade cookies from yet another Abel Day, not the heavenly floral scent of her as she wraps her arms around him after a long day apart. He closes his eyes and grips the back of the kitchen chair; Tara won't be baking any more cookies for Abel Day, or making spaghetti for dinner; he'll never come home to her soft smile and glowing green eyes full of love for him.

"I'm going to find who did this to you, Tara," he vows harshly; his eyes rooted to the spot on the floor where he'd held her for the last time. "Whoever it is will feel your pain. And a whole hell of a lot more." Jax smiles for the first time since that last afternoon with Tara; although, there's absolutely no resemblance between the blissful grin that he saved solely for her and the vicious sneer that now curves his lips. "I swear to you, Babe. Whatever it fucking takes...Even if it's the last goddamn thing I do."

* * *

><p>"Oh, your mail's all here." Chucky holds out a pack of letters held together with rubber bands. "Got a little crowded in your mailbox." Apparently he'd been a self-appointed guardian of the Teller home while Jax was in the hospital, coming over every day to water Tara's flower beds, chat with the people who'd come by to pay their respects and collect the mail. He'd also been the one to find out when the house was released as a crime scene and ordered the cleaning crew. So when he'd shown up at the house, Jax put him to work - cleaning up the driveway.<p>

Jax nods distractedly. "Put them on the counter; I'll get to them later."

"Okay, they're mostly bills and junk mail. Although one of them looks personal so I put that on top."

Who'd send a personal letter? Everyone he knows communicates by either phone call or text. Frowning, Jax changes his mind and accepts the pack from Chucky, who flashes him a small smile before zipping off to do his work. Extracting the top envelope from the pack, he freezes at the sight of the familiar handwriting; the rest of the letter slip out of his hand to fall to the floor.

Shutting himself in his bedroom, Jax can't stop his hands from trembling as he tears open the envelope, swallowing hard as he notes the two folded pieces of stationery. One of the pages catches his attention immediately as it's covered with Tara's meticulous script. He closes his eyes, momentarily beset with images of Tara, hunched over the kitchen table learning to write again after the failed abduction had crushed the bones and nerves in her hand. Hour upon hour, day after day she'd attacked that challenge like she did everything else in her life – fiercely, resolutely. As if perfect penmanship was the first step leading back to her surgical career.

Unfolding the paper, his gaze shoots to her name - Tara G. Knowles, M.D. - engraved on the letterhead, then the date she'd printed neatly at the top. Grief grips his throat and threatens to choke him. Tara wrote this to him the night she'd left with their sons, the night he'd destroyed Abel's room in anger and devastation, the night before she was savagely murdered. It's too goddamn much to take. He sets the letter down on the bed; how can he bear to read the last thing that Tara would ever write to him?

Long moments pass before he picks it up again; drawing a deep breath, he starts to read…

_Dear Jax,_

_I can only imagine the anger and hate you must feel for me now. I know that you love the Club more than anything, so what I'm doing must feel like the ultimate betrayal to you. Please know that I'll always hate myself for causing you this pain. But Baby, it's not about you and me anymore. Our boys need to come first, and the only way they can be safe from a life of violence or life in prison is for them to be raised far away from the Club, far away from your mother. I will do anything and sacrifice everything to make that happen. _

_When I first left Charming all those years ago, I told you that I couldn't be like my mom; couldn't let this town slowly kill me like it did her. I really thought that I was stronger than she was because I could leave and find a better life. Well when I was inside, I realized how wrong I was; I truly am my mother's daughter. I finally understood the hopelessness and the total defeat that she felt - the only thing that kept me from giving into it was our boys. I had to use the window of freedom that I was given to save them - to get them out of this life, break the cycle. Because once I was convicted and sent back inside, I knew I wouldn't be coming home again._

_I'm writing this is so that you know that what happened tonight, and what happens next, was never my intention. I wanted the boys to be safe and far away with Wendy, then you and the guys could be free of the DA because I'd never tell her anything. But that plan failed because I forgot what my mom taught me: you can never trust anyone._

_Given the circumstances, I know you may not believe me, but I am sorry it's come to this; sorry for what I have to do to you, to the guys - even to your mother. I know how much she loves Abel and Thomas, but she loves the Club more; knowing what she's done for SAMCRO…it terrifies me to think of her pushing that life on them like she did to you. On the happiest day of my life - the day you asked me to marry you - you said that JT should've run over Gemma and leave town with you and Tommy. Well, I was prepared to do that very thing to save Abel and Thomas. I just didn't realize that I would have to run over you as well._

_I've enclosed something that I'd like you to have; something that I've carried with me for most of my life. For years, it was just a keepsake of the two precious boys I loved so much - one of those boys was my whole world. But in the last few months, I'd look at it and think of our precious boys and how much they deserve a different fate - a chance for a better life that your dad should've given you and Tommy._

_Please take care of yourself, Jax. Please. It may seem from my actions that I don't care what happens to you, but nothing - nothing - could be further from the truth. You'll know soon enough. I told you once that I wouldn't want to live in a world without you in it; that was true then and now and forever._

_I love you, Baby. So much. I always have, and I always will._

_- Tara_

Although painfully shattering enough to cause his vision to blur and his chest to constrict so tightly that he can barely breathe, it's not her letter that breaks him; rather it's the photo he finds wrapped in the second piece of stationery that destroys what's left of his composure.

The sight of him and Opie instantly draws his attention - sitting on a porch step, laughing uproariously with their arms draped around each other's shoulders. Holy shit, they were young; judging from their matching gap-toothed grins caused by multiple missing front teeth, they couldn't have been more than five or six._ "…two precious boys I loved so much - one of those boys was my whole world."_

It almost makes him smile until his eyes drift to the third figure in the photo, and his breath catches sharply. Talk about art imitating life - he may not have seen Tara at first, but once she'd captured his attention, he could never look away. Jax's eyes greedily drink in the vision of the love of his life as a precocious five-year-old with her long dark hair, sparkling green eyes and that gorgeous smile that could always dazzle him senseless - even when comprised of small, pearly white baby teeth. Sitting on his other side, Tara's head rests against his shoulder as she smiles softly at the camera - her small hand entwined with his. _"We're supposed to be together, Babe. There's nothing crazy about that." _

Collapsing to his knees, he clutches the photo like a lifeline as his whole body heaves with choking sobs. Having lost so much in his life - Tommy, his dad, Piney, Kozik and other Brothers - he'd always been able to survive the pain and move forward. But this…there'll be no fucking recovering from this…losing Opie and Tara and the future the three of them should've had together like those happy, carefree children in the photo - full of love, full of life. That future could've been theirs if it wasn't for his goddamn devotion to a fucking motorcycle club.

"I'm so sorry, Babe," he whispers hoarsely to his beautiful girl, stroking her cheek with a shaking finger, wishing with everything inside of him that it's her creamy soft skin he's touching instead of the cold, slick photo paper. "…_one day…I'm going to marry you. That's the endgame, Tara - you and me and a bunch of kids. We'll have the Club and our family. It'll be so great, Babe." _Although there's no fucking endgame for him now, not without her.

"Jax? Hey Jax?" Chucky knocks on the door softly. "What do you want me to do with all this stuff? I put the flowers in water and the candles in the kitchen, but what about the toys and notes and pictures?"

Ignoring Chucky, Jax stares into those mossy green eyes and swallows painfully; no end game, no chance for that little girl he'd wanted so much to have with her. Another beautiful, brilliant little Tara to add to their family.

"_But Baby, it's not about you and me anymore. Our boys need to come first…" _It hits him hard that he's barely thought of his sons today or in the past couple of days since regaining consciousness. He'd been consumed with so much rage, so much grief - all he could think about was his blazing drive for vengeance, his unrelenting thirst for blood. But that's his problem, has always been his goddamn problem: putting what he wanted - for himself, for his Club - ahead of everything. By the time he finally pulled his head out of his ass and put his family first - that last day with her - it turned out to be too late, too fucking late to save her. And too late to save himself, because he's nothing without her.

"…_and the only way they can be safe from a life of violence or life in prison is for them to be raised far away from the Club." _But it's not too late for Abel and Thomas; it's not too late to fulfill what Tara wanted…"_think of our precious boys and how much they deserve a different fate - a chance for a better life that your dad should've given you and Tommy."_

"What was that, Jax?" Chucky calls out again. "Did you say 'put them on the coffee table?' Ok, I accept that."

Rising to his feet, still clutching the photo, Jax opens his bedroom door to find Chucky standing there holding a paper bag filled with tributes to the dedicated doctor who saved so many. Abel and Thomas need to grow up knowing that and so much more about their brilliant mother. "I'll take that," he tells Chucky, extending his hand.

After Chucky leaves, Jax goes back into his bedroom and pulls his redwood box out from under the bed. Bracing himself, he begins pulling the pictures and notes out of the paper bag and into the box, which one day he'll share with his sons so they can see their beautiful mother as the saucy teenage girl who'd ensnared him so thoroughly and the gifted physician who'd made a difference for so many families. When he finishes, there's one more photo left. Taking another long look at the happy trio of friends, he pulls out his wallet so it can join the other two snapshots that he'll always carry with him: the one of him and Tara at Gemma and Clay's wedding and the more recent family photo that Tara arranged for them after he got out of Stockton - seated on a blanket outside in their backyard, he's got his arms around both Abel and Tara, who's cradling baby Thomas. Both he and Abel have huge grins on their faces, while Tara's dazzling smile outshines the sun. And like the photo of their preschool selves and hundreds of other pictures in the redwood box, their hands are tightly entwined.

"_We're gonna take our boys and we're gonna get the hell out of here. Start fresh somewhere. Be a real family." _More than anything in the goddamn world, he wishes he'd honored that promise to her. But although he'd failed her then, he won't fail her now. "They won't grow up in SAMCRO, Tara. I'll get them out of here. I'm promise, Babe. I promise."


End file.
